The Pilgrim Heart
by elle-nora
Summary: Now complete! The first of a trilogy of Highlander novels exploring the past and future of immortals. Duncan and Methos become involved once more in the lives of young Derrick and the mysterious Ellie.
1. 1

Legal: Obviously I do not own the canon characters and I make no bones about just liking to play in the **Highlander** universe. All other characters are mine. This story takes place immediately after "Please Remember Me" as well as being a sequel to "Stolen Child" and builds on events in "Crossroads of Time" and "Loaf of Bread, Jug of Wine". However, it is not necessary to read those stories for this one to work... but it will help those who have done so to understand the character relationships in this universe. Also, within the canon universe... this story is present day and takes place sometime after the events of **Endgame**. For the purposes of this story... the theatrical version of **Endgame** should be referenced. In other words... NO FAITH!

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Highlander: _The Pilgrim Heart_

Part One

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Journeys

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Pilgrim how you journey

on the road you chose

to find out why the winds die

and where their stories go.

All days come from one day

that much you must know,

you cannot change what's over

but only where you go.

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~from "Pilgrim", lyrics by Roma Ryan

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Chapter 1

Seacouver 2003

"You've seen her? You've actually met her?" Joe Dawson's voice quivered with an excitement that confused Duncan MacLeod.

"Yeah... Joe," replied Duncan taking a sip of scotch, "What's the big deal?"

"You don't know! She's been a part of Watcher myth since almost the beginning of the time we started keeping records."

Duncan shrugged, "Green eyes are pretty common Joe... she was a little strange and she did claim she had known Darius for almost 800 years, but that's hardly a long time and you know it."

"Naw... Mac... you don't understand. We have thousands of references to a green-eyed woman who appears and disappears in the lives of many of you guys... but no one's ever been able to describe her. No one has ever seen her in combat with another immortal. The only thing that is common is that she has green eyes!"

Duncan leaned back in the chair and thoughtfully regarded his friend. He had seldom seen Joe so excited about anything! "It could be many women... You want to explain just what is going on here?" he finally murmured.

Joe sat down across from him at the table in his Seacouver bar and poured himself a scotch from the bottle. "Describe her to me Mac... just try."

Duncan thought carefully a moment and tried to visualize Ellie. He saw her first as the frightened and timid waif whom he had first met... but that wasn't right. She was frightened, yes... but timid... somehow he doubted it. He visualized her next as the exhausted and wary girl who had come to him for help... that wasn't quite right either... the next morning she had seemed a little more sure of herself... not nearly so tired or wary. Then he tried to visualize her as the knife wielding immortal of whom he was uncertain if she would attack him or Carrera. He had seen the ease with which she had handled that knife... and the blazing rage in her eyes... Duncan never wanted to be the focus of that rage. Then he tried to see the "mother hen Ellie" watching over the sleeping Derrick. And finally the confident if still mysterious and teasing young woman she had seemed when he had last seen her... even that image he was not certain of.

Duncan shrugged, "Well Joe... as I said... she had the most amazing green eyes!" He smiled sheepishly and took another sip of the scotch.

"And that's exactly what I mean." Joe threw his hands up. "No one who has ever seen her in contact with another immortal has been able to fully give us a description of her. I don't know... maybe she hypnotizes us. I thought maybe since you were an immortal... she had been more open with you."

Duncan smiled, "Guess not!"

"What about this boy she wanted you to rescue... what was the deal there?"

"Oh... just some kid that Carrera had kidnapped to get her to meet with him." Duncan had decided not to tell Joe about Derrick's latent immortality. The kid deserved a normal life... and somehow Watchers watching him might not be too normal. No... he would keep an eye on the boy. He had promised Ellie he would, and Duncan liked to keep his promises.

Suddenly he stiffened. The annoying buzz of a nearby immortal teased at his senses. He glanced meaningfully at Joe. "Expecting anyone?"

Joe shook his head... it could be anyone. Several of Mac's friends now knew they could come to _Joe's_ or to _Le Blues Bar_ in Paris and have a drink or hang out and that no one would bother them there. Joe had promised the Watcher Council that if they would leave their people out of his bars, he just might get some of the immortals to open up to him about some things... at least the ones who knew about the Watchers. The new "friendlier, kinder, more relaxed" Watcher Council had agreed... and so far... they were keeping their promises. 

"Not a clue, Mac... not a clue."

By that time, the door opened and Methos entered. "Hi guys!" he said pleasantly... walked behind the bar and poured himself a draft. "What's up?" he asked joining them at the table. He was dressed casually in jeans, a sweater, and long coat.

"You son of a bitch! Where have you been? Do you know just how many phone calls and emails I've fielded the past three days! Where the hell did you go?" There was exasperation in Joe's voice, but no real anger.

"I told you I was taking a little vacation!" Methos took a long sip and leaned back in the chair with his legs extended and crossed. He smiled innocently at Joe.

"You left me a voice message here at the bar at 7:00 am... a time you knew fully well I wouldn't be here."

"Sorry... I was on London time." Methos took another sip of beer.

"Your Watcher called me at home at 7:15, frantic as hell that he had lost you!" Joe waved his hands about emphatically. "Somehow everyone thought I should know where you were!"

Duncan began to chuckle at his two friends, then he took another sip of the scotch, "So what brings you to _Joe's_ and Seacouver... I thought you were pretty well settled into London for awhile."

"Can't a bloke just stop in for a beer without the third degree?" Methos smiled and settled his beer mug on his chest. Amusement played over his lips. _Gods he loved getting them like this!_ "So what's new?" he asked again.

Joe gestured his thumb towards Mac. "He's met the green eyed woman. Can't describe her."

For a moment Duncan thought he saw a hint of something in his immortal friend's eyes... a hint of recognition... but then Methos just took another sip of beer and murmured.

"Ahh... the _mynishka_!"

"What's that... I've never heard that word." asked Duncan.

"It's from an old pre-Hittite dialect. It means the green-eyed woman." Methos shrugged as if it were no matter. "She's called that in some of the older Chronicles."

"Yeah..." Joe interjected, "the _mynishka_."

"So what do you know about her?" Duncan asked with a smile.

"Well... she had green eyes..." Methos offered sheepishly and shrugged. He was not about to tell them what he knew of Eleanor's involvement in that legend. If Eleanor chose to tell someone... that was her business. Her tale was not his to tell... not now... not ever. Besides, most of the elusive references he had surreptitiously been chasing down in the Chronicles the last few years before he'd had to leave, were not Eleanor. Some may have been Aja... but others...?

"So you've seen her, too?" Joe asked as he poured another scotch. He offered to refill Mac's but he shook his head.

"I didn't say I'd met her. Only heard the tales. If I'd met her... I'd remember." Methos looked pointedly at Duncan. "So what did she do this time?"

Duncan narrowed his eyes. "_Methos knows something he's not saying_," he thought_. _"_Still, I'll play along for now_." He nodded and gave him the short version of his encounter with Ellie, Derrick and Carrera that he had given Joe. He left out Derrick's potential and the odd things the boy had done that had made him think of Darius. He concentrated instead on the situation, as it had been when he got involved.

"They were living on the street... hand to mouth... probably in alleyways and eating from garbage. At first I thought she was just a really new immortal who hadn't a clue as to how to survive. Later..." Duncan shrugged, "... I'm still not certain why she chose that path when she could have just fought the man, taken his head and moved on with the boy. And for the record, Joe... I still don't know for certain she actually knew Darius, or was just picking up on clues I may have let slip."

Methos brooded silently. "_Garbage...? She was living on garbage? No wonder she looked so thin, so pale!_" He took a long swig of the beer then looked at the mug thoughtfully. "Joe... I need to throw this... I'll clean it up... but I need to throw this now."

Duncan and Joe looked at one another. "_What was going on here?_" they both seemed to ask each other silently.

"Yeah sure, buddy... glass gets broken in here all the time... as long as you clean it up." Joe said.

Before he had even finished, Methos threw the mug forcefully against the wall. The glass shattered and beer sprayed the area around the bandstand. He took several deep slow breaths then looked at Joe. "And the broom is where...?"

"In the back closet." Joe shrugged and shook his head at Duncan while Methos pushed his chair back and stomped back to get the broom. Duncan returned the gesture, then poured himself another scotch. They both knew Methos didn't reveal much unless he wanted to... and they both knew he sometimes could have a hair trigger, but this was a bit out of character.

Methos swept up the glass, tossed the shards into the trash, returned the broom and dustpan to the closet, then drew himself another beer. He glared at nothing in particular as he reclaimed his seat.

"You gonna tell us what that was about?" Joe finally asked him after several minutes of Methos just staring at nothing.

"No... not my story to tell..." Methos lifted the mug and drank the entire contents down at one gulp. He wiped his mouth. "Gotta go..." and he was gone like the wind without another word.

"Any idea, Mac what that was about?"

"I'd say he must have met our green-eyed lady at some point in his long life."

"Yeah, but when... what happened just now?"

"Maybe he and Carrera also knew one another," Duncan said thoughtfully as he sipped his scotch. Soon the band arrived to set up and their private conversation was put on hold.


	2. 2

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Chapter 2

Methos had not planned to remain in Seacouver. He had just thought it would be a nice layover for a few days between Niebos and going on to London. But MacLeod's comments had stunned him. 

When he had seen Eleanor over the weekend at Phillip's, he had been startled by her thin and haggard appearance. He himself had attempted to project a dangerous image... mainly for her benefit. He had thought he would be an easy target for her if she were still on the warpath after Angola. That it might just help. Ten years was little more than a moment to those who had lived so long... but it was time, he had thought, for her to move on. Once he had seen her, however, he had instantly regretted his decision... but had decided to play it out.

He had put her appearance down to her inability to move past her grief... but she hadn't seemed to want his help... For most of the weekend... she had seemed to withdraw into herself... until the end, at least. Now, after learning at least part of the story from MacLeod, Methos knew there was something else going on... something he had better discover. And he didn't want to ask MacLeod. The Highlander was already suspicious after the other day.

So Methos had rented a room at a low rent hotel he sometimes frequented and had pointedly stayed away from _Joe's_. Even if no watcher but Joe was in there, he figured Joe had at least told them he was in town. He wasn't ready to go back on their radar... not yet.

Methos continued his computer search after hacking into some of the social services files. Finally he found what he was looking for and took note of the names and the addresses. Now he could locate this boy and see what was so important. He knew Eleanor far too well, if she had remained underground in such perilous circumstances, and with the boy... then she was protecting him. And Methos was determined to discover why.

After all, it was she who had told him back in 1969, that she had nothing to fear from Carrera... it was those she cared about who might suffer.

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London, 1969

Methos ran his hand along Eleanor's bare back, tracing the pattern for hunger... desire... the devourer on her skin.

She turned to him with a smile, "Stop it."

"Why?"

She shrugged his hand off and sat up in the bed, "Because that always gets us into trouble. I didn't plan on this, you know." She swung her legs out of the bed and stood stretching all over in the afternoon sun. Methos had smiled as the shafts of sunlight played over her tanned and lithe body. 

"Is that all I am to you then... trouble and a "quick one" when in town."

She turned and stuck her tongue out at him, then wrinkled her nose. "You are my oldest friend." She began searching for the clothes he had eagerly removed from her small frame soon after she had arrived earlier. "But..." and she grinned, "I really don't trust you very much. Only a little... and only now and then. Besides your girl friend should be back any time now."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Methos groaned.

"Well she thinks she is!" By this time she had begun pulling her clothes on. He was glad to see she was branching out a bit in her colors. Blue jeans were very _de rigueur'_ these days. She hopped slightly as she fastened and zipped them.

"Besides... _Methos_," she said it with emphasis, "You really are only a bad habit I can't quite rid myself of. You smile at me with that sardonic grin of yours and suddenly I'm a girl once more and you are the only man I dare trust." She pulled on her gray T-shirt and ran her fingers through her shoulder length dark hair.

"So just why are you here?"

She turned to the mirror and continued to comb her hair with her fingers. "As I tried to tell you before we got distracted, I just want you to be on the lookout for me about this Joaquin Carrera. I need to know where he is at all times so I can avoid him."

"Why not just kill him and take his head?" Methos also began pulling on his discarded clothes... feeling the mood of the interlude had evaporated.

Eleanor began pulling her hair into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band. "Killing him is easy... but I don't want his head." She turned and gave him a pained expression. "I have no interest in that part of the Game... not after last time. I don't want to go off the deep end again and lose myself."

Methos nodded, remembering just how long it had taken last time for her to re-find herself and to again become the independent immortal she needed to be. "But you're stronger this time... You'd know not to try and take it all in. Besides... I doubt he has anywhere near the power you tried to absorb."

Eleanor shook her head and interrupted him, "Doesn't matter... I fear that if I take any of his anger into me... it will overwhelm me. I don't want to chance it. Besides, it's not my head he wants... it's to kill those I care about. He wants to rob me of my life the way he thinks I robbed him of his."

"Well being buried under a pile of rocks for thirty years without understanding what was happening to you could drive anyone mad."

"So I made a bad choice... so what else is new." She sat down on the edge of the bed thoughtfully, then reached for her hiking boots and socks. "I was improvising... I was furious at what he had done... or rather what he made me do..." her voice trailed off. Silently she finished dressing.

"Let me kill him for you." Methos had finished pulling on his own jeans and a cable knit sweater. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed.

"No!" She turned and her eyes held that spark of madness he had often seen there before. Then she closed them, took a deep breath, let it out slowly and reopened her eyes. She smiled, "How will he learn if we kill him while he's still so young. He deserves a life. I did rob him of that. So I do owe him. Despite everything... I owe him."

Methos shook his head, "No... you owe no one but yourself. Stop trying to be mother hen to all of us. I knew Aja and you are not her reborn... despite what I might have once thought. I'll find him... I'll challenge him..."

"And what if he takes your head," she said softly. "Whatever should I do then."

"He won't."

She reached out to him and softly caressed the side of his face. "I don't want you to take that chance. Not for me! Promise me... just if you find him... let me know where he is so I can avoid him."

"I still think this is a mistake." 

Eleanor rose and walked thoughtfully over to the window. "Perhaps... but this is the way it has to be." 

He was amazed at how much sadness was apparent in her voice. "What happened in Hawaii?"

Eleanor stood looking down at the traffic on the street below. "He robbed me of someone... a mortal... a mortal who still lives... someone I might have learned to love if we'd had more time... loved enough to have told him everything." When she looked at him, he saw tears sparkling in her eyes. "Haven't you ever loved anyone so much you wanted to tell them everything?"

Methos had looked at the floor. "_Once_,"he thought_, _"_once... but I never did, until it was too late_." He looked at her and shook his head. "No... never."

Eleanor smiled, "Then I pity you... for you have never known love. I hope someday you have that chance."

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Methos shut the computer off with a sudden snap of his hand. He was getting maudlin and he never liked that... not in himself... and not in others. With Alexa... Eleanor's wish for him had seemed eerily prophetic. "_Love endures!_" That answer had not just been for Phillip... it was also for him. 

He stretched the kinks out of his back and rolled his head back and forth. When he felt relaxed and ready, he left his room and headed for Derrick's school, determined to discover for himself just what it was that Eleanor had been protecting. What it had been that had turned her from a self-assured female immortal back into the shy and frightened girl of her childhood.


	3. 3

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Chapter 3

He had watched the boy from across the street for the past three weeks. Everyday at recess, when Derrick's class had piled exuberantly onto the playground, Methos had been there. Sometimes sitting on the bench at the bus stop as he was now, or sometimes hiding in the shadows.

The boy definitely was one of them... but that was not enough to have made Eleanor attempt to hold on to Derrick for four years... putting his life and her own in peril. There had to be something more. Yet, for all intents and purposes... the ten-year old, sandy-haired Derrick looked and played like any normal kid. He gave no sign of anything that might indicate something else, and Methos was as clueless as when he had first seen him.

The bus would be here soon and he would get on and vanish for another day. Tomorrow was Saturday so he would have the weekend to figure out his next move.

He watched Derrick chase a loose ball over to the fence line. The boy picked it up and stared at Methos across the street. Then he put up his hand and waved. Methos started and tried to look uninterested. The boy turned back to his playmates on the yard when they called him and that was all there was.

Methos shook his head. "_Damn, but that was eerie_," he thought. Just then he felt the approach of another immortal. Looking up, he groaned inwardly. It was MacLeod.

"Having a good time?" Duncan MacLeod smirked as he joined Methos at the bus bench.

"I have no idea," replied Methos, " what you're referring to. I'm just trying to catch a ride on the bus."

"Oh I think you know exactly what I'm referring to. Come on.... I'll introduce you." MacLeod motioned for Methos to join him in crossing the street to the schoolyard fence.

As he crossed, Derrick saw them and waved at his playmates, indicating he was out of the game. He trotted over to the fence.

"Hi Duncan! Who's your friend?"

"This is..." he glanced at Methos giving him the option of giving his own name.

"Adam." Methos put his hands in his coat pockets and slouched at the fence. _Damn but this had taken an awkward turn._ He glanced around to see if any Watchers were lurking about. There was usually one on MacLeod most of the time.

"Do you play chess, too?"

"On occasion." Methos saw no one but felt more exposed than he wanted to right now. He'd had no intention of meeting the boy. He'd just been curious, that was all. He had a feeling MacLeod was going to ask some pretty perceptive questions after while.

For his part, Duncan was smiling. It wasn't often he had the upper hand around Methos. The elder immortal was usually so much in control of every situation and encounter that he gave nothing away. It was good to see him so uncomfortable for a change. "Derrick... I was talking to your foster parents about a weekend outing. I came by to see what you might like to do tomorrow. George might join us as well if you're interested.

The boy nodded, "That'd be great!" and then said, "Tell Eleanor 'Hi!' for me."

Methos had thought he was speaking to Duncan, but had glanced sharply at the boy when he said that. His blue eyes seemed to twinkle in amusement... but it was Methos he was looking at.

The bell rang, ending recess. Derrick shrugged and smiled, "Gotta go now. Email me tonight Duncan... we can plan stuff then. Betty and Ron monitor everything but I think they trust you. I know I do." The boy had waved then and run off to join his class lining up to return to the building.

"So..." Duncan said leaning against the fence with his arms crossed, "what did you think?"

"He's just a kid Mac... nothing more." The bus was coming. "I'll see you around..." and he went back to the bus stop to catch the bus across town.

Duncan watched his friend leave. Something had happened. He was sure of it. Had Methos seen something? Why else was he here? And Derrick's remark... that had been not to Duncan... but to "Adam." Most telling of all... Derrick almost never called her Eleanor... usually he called her Ellie... his sister. He always asked Duncan if he had heard from Ellie. Why Eleanor... why now?

Duncan shook his head. He'd have to keep his eye on Methos. There was something going on, and he knew it. He needed to talk to his friend. He wanted answers!

On the bus, Methos slouched down in the seat and watched the other passengers. He had a long ride ahead of him. This bus would take him a good distance out of the way. That was all right. He needed time to think.

**********

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Northern Italy 826 c.e.

When the Quickening faded, Methos stormed off to the edge of the clearing... already regretting the events that had led to this. He truly had not intended on killing Malachi but something had just snapped. Whether it was the amount of alcohol they had consumed or the comments Malachi had made or the damned sword itself, he did not know. But what had begun as a sparring match intended to train the young immortal had ended up being quite deadly to him...

Methos sat down on a log and carefully raised the great sword up and down in his hands. Sometimes this damned thing just seemed to scream for blood. He wished he had never agreed to be its guardian for a time. He swore the thing was cursed! It made his own dark past come too much alive in him sometimes.

O ro' dred had laughed at that when he had begged Methos to guard the sword..."You are responsible for your own actions boy... don't blame who or what you are or what you have done or might do on those within." Sometimes he thought that old man knew something he did not. But O ro' dred had always laughed at that, too. "Perhaps it is you boy, who knows things I do not. I am after all... only a simple potter."

In the clearing he could hear Phillip mumbling about disposing of the body. Behind him he sensed Darius coming up to sit with him.

Methos growled at him, "Be careful Darius, I'm not in a good mood right now."

"So I gathered." His friend sat down beside him on the log. He had disguised himself as a peasant to join them for the wake, but he still moved as though he were wearing those monk's robes he seemed to prefer these days.

"Did this thing ever blind you to reason?" Methos lifted the sword by its pommel and then lowered it again, tapping the blade on the earth. Darius had carried that sword when they had first met.

"Not that I noticed. I was pretty bloodthirsty when I carried it, as you may well remember. I doubt it was the sword..." he shrugged. "It was likely just me. A sword is just a sword..."

"I still think O ro' dred should have just buried it somewhere if he were tired of guarding it," Methos growled. "I wish I had never agreed to this..." Once more he lifted and dropped the sword up and down before him.

"Perhaps he felt it was necessary."

Methos shook his head. "I just wish I knew why that old man always acts as if he knows me from somewhere. I do not remember ever meeting him before a few hundred years ago." Methos glanced over at Darius. "Has he ever said anything to you? I know you two became thick as thieves after your experience with the Ancient One."

Darius shrugged and smiled. "Our experiences with Ancient Ones was very different. O ro' dred mainly talks to me about Nin."

"Nin..." murmured Methos thoughtfully. Once more he lifted and lowered the great sword. "It was for Nin that I agreed to this. Do you have any idea how old she is?"

"None... but she may not be nearly as old as you think she is."

Methos stared thoughtfully at Darius, wondering just what it was he had learned from the Ancient's quickening. All he knew for certain was that after that, the Goth had changed completely. The barbarian warrior was gone... and Methos had seen flashes of the Ancient in his friend's eyes. But whatever Darius had learned... he was keeping to himself.

Behind them the sounds of Phillip's footsteps whispered on the leaves... Then the booming voice of their companion sounded. "Well... he is buried. Good riddance too... I am not certain Malachi was ever the sort who could truly appreciate our gatherings. Sorry I ever brought him. Maybe we should ban the use of blades next time. Things can so suddenly get out of hand. Also... next time I meet someone who I think should join us... I think I'll sleep on it for a century or two." He laughed his huge booming laugh and punched Methos in the arm.

The nearness of two of his friends helped alleviate some of Methos' dark mood.

Phillip settled himself on another log and crossed his arms. "So what now? I have sobered up and I do not think we have enough wine left to start over."

"Not to mention beer." growled Methos.

"You and that brown swill you call spirits!" Phillip laughed. "I swear... one of these days you'll drink too much of that stuff to properly lift that sword!"

Methos jumped to his feet. "I could still beat you... you old fool!"

Phillip likewise stood, his own sword in his hand, "Then come... but I warn you... my Lady Danae said I would never be defeated in battle, you young pup... "

"I am not a young pup..."

"Gentlemen..." Darius stood between them. "There has been enough of taking heads this day. We are all tired and on edge..." Slowly the two immortals still glaring at one another reclaimed their seats. But they kept their swords ready.

"You have been friends since before I met either of you... These words are not words that should end a friendship. Remember just why you two have met like this for so many centuries. Why do you seek each other's company out... why do you truly wish for a few days without the shadow of the Game that rules all our lives?"

Phillip mumbled, "Apologies, my friends... perhaps I am still a little drunk after all."

Methos nodded in return, "My apologies also... I am still on edge after what happened and..." he sighed and shook his head, once more lifting and dropping the damned sword.

"Perhaps this gathering of ours should now be concluded..." Darius said suddenly. He fished around in his pouch for a moment then poured several runestones into his hand. He sorted through them, finally coming up with the one he wanted. "I do not think I shall join you next time. Here is something one of you can hold onto until the next time you meet for one of these wild parties of yours. It may remind you of just why you gather as friends. Then use it to remember me and drink a toast to our friendship." He smiled and tossed the stone to Methos. "It's the rune for friend."


	4. 4

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Chapter 4

Niebos, Greece

Eleanor finished working with the weights and grabbed a towel to wipe her face. Then she looked for the water. She hadn't worked out this hard in years. But she still had ground to make up. She still had the moves... but no real strength. She might need strength! She sat down on one of the benches to catch her breath. Time was this wouldn't have phased her at all. Well... she could be very single-minded when she needed to be... And right now, she needed to get her strength back. She took another swig of the water... polishing it off.

Her stomach growled. As she had figured... once she had begun to move past her grief... her appetite had returned. Phillip was either cooking or ordering to be cooked for her anything that would help her re-gain the lost weight. With her small frame, she needed all the weight she could carry... and more strength than it looked like she could muster. Thus the weights!

Eleanor's stomach growled again. Time to eat, she thought and tossed the used towel into the hamper and the empty water bottle into the trash. She padded softly in her bare feet through Phillip's villa to the kitchen. There was some pasta left from last night's dinner and she had her sights set on that.

When she passed Phillip's office, she could hear him inside once more attempting to convince the village elders that a state-of-the-art hospital would be a good thing... that it would make life better for them and for all of their children. She didn't think he would get anywhere with them that way. Well, she'd talk to him later.

Once in the kitchen she located the pasta and heated it in the microwave. The sauce was one of Phillip's specialties... she was always amazed at how much he had taken to Italian culture and cuisine over the years. Maybe the old man was secretly a Roman in Greek clothing. She snickered at that... knowing just how proud he was to be Greek... or at least raised a Greek.

The microwave beeped and she removed the pasta and stirred it. Just right! So she wandered back through the villa to the terrace to sit in the warm sunshine and eat her snack. The village leaders were leaving. Phillip nodded to her as he showed them the way out... then he joined her.

"I cannot get anywhere with them... they just don't listen."

"Maybe it is you who is not listening to them." Eleanor smiled and took another bite of the pasta.

"A hospital on the island would be a good thing," Phillip wanted this hospital. He planned it as a memorial for Carlo. He wanted the best of everything and he was exasperated that the villagers simply could not see it his way.

"But do they need a state-of-the-art hospital with all the latest 'bells and whistles'?" Eleanor sat straight up on the chaise, her legs on either side and gazed evenly at Phillip. "Do you need people coming to this island from all over the world to get treatments?"

Phillip considered what she was saying. He leaned back in the chair thoughtfully, "I already have too many people coming to Niebos. I can control the frequency and the size of the archeology digs... but I think I see what you're saying. They don't need the biggest and the best..." his voice trailed away. He sat in silence for a while then looked over at her. Eleanor had finished the pasta and set it down. She was once more lying on the chaise with her eyes closed. Now she was just resting in the warm Greek sunshine.

He continued, "So what do they need?"

Eleanor smiled, "When you know that... then you will reach a compromise."

Phillip nodded. She still had that gift of knowing what he needed. She was becoming her old self once more.


	5. 5

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Chapter 5

Seacouver

Things were pretty quiet right now at _Joe's_. Joe had finished the paperwork for the day. The barback had finished restocking supplies and was taking a dinner break at the pizza place across the street. The band had not yet arrived to set up for the evening sets. And no one else was here. Quiet time... before the evening rush.

Joe rubbed down the bar one more time... wiping away non-existent spills... then looked around. Nothing more to be done for the time being. Time for a short break before things got moving.

He threw the towel over his shoulder and pulled an old book from a shelf under the register. The brown leather binding was worn smooth to the touch... its gilt-edged pages were still crisp, if slightly browned. "_Older books age well_," he thought. He carried it over to a table and made himself comfortable. "_Now where was I_?"

He glanced at the photo of a much younger version of himself and the young woman he'd been with. Even after all these years... he still had a warm spot in his heart for Lee... despite her sudden disappearance. And she had left him her Baudelaire... her precious first edition Baudelaire... **_Les Fleur du Mal_**, 1857.

He ran his finger over the strange dedication and mentally translated... _"Dearest M~ Here's to the Angel Immortal... who lights the heart in me! ~CB"_ It was a paraphrase of a quote from a poem that did not appear in this version of Charles Baudelaire's great masterpiece... but did appear in later versions printed after his death. Joe had authenticated the handwriting as that of Baudelaire himself. Lee had bought the book at a used bookseller's years before, she had once said when he had asked her... but she had no idea what it meant.

With what he knew of immortals, Joe had often wondered if the reference meant something more than what the critics suggested... he wondered if Baudelaire had once known an immortal. In all his years of research... he had never solved the puzzle. But it was the first book of a collection of rare books that he now owned... and it was still the one he liked to read when things slowed down enough for him to do so.

He looked up as the door opened and Duncan MacLeod entered looking slightly peeved. Joe absently re-placed the photo into the book once more and leaned back into the chair. "Hey Mac... what's wrong?"

Mac paced back and forth... then slammed his fist several times onto a table and then paced once more. "Have you seen Methos since he was here last?"

"Not for a couple of weeks. I thought maybe he'd headed back to London but my people there say he hasn't showed. Why? What's he done now?"

"Nothing... but I want to talk to him, and he's not answering his cell or returning messages!"

"Well that's Methos! Mac... when he has something on his mind he just vanishes."

"Yeah... I know..." Mac took a deep breath. "If you hear from him... or where he is... let me know. I really need to talk to him." Then he left. No goodbye... no explanation... no drink... no chitchat. Joe gazed thoughtfully after his friend as the door closed behind MacLeod. Something was definitely going on.

Joe resisted the urge to call his people and get someone going on this. He was a Watcher... yes... but he had long ago decided he was Mac's friend first... Watcher second. He'd just have to trust that Mac knew what he was doing and would let him in on it when he was ready. He wouldn't push.

Nor would he make inquiries about Methos with the Watchers. They were still unhappy with him for not telling them about just who Methos was when the immortal had still been lurking within their ranks... but Joe had had his reasons for keeping that secret... damned good reasons! He re-opened the Baudelaire to begin reading... but his thoughts were far away... 

**********

__

Seacouver 1994

Joe put the phone down. _Adam Pierson was Methos?_ He still couldn't believe it. Not the Adam Pierson he knew. Not the kid who sometimes went with him and a few others when he was in Paris to some of the local clubs and tossed back a cold one! The kid was a good researcher but he was not really the type to be a mythic immortal warrior. Joe had wanted to head right to Paris, but Mac said Methos was gone... vanished with all the precious research... all the Methos chronicles and histories that Pierson had been working on for the last ten years.

The kid had just seemed to be a guy in the back of the library quietly working away. A historian... with no interest in field work. Joe shook his head laughing... "Damn that was smart! What better way to hide from all the people looking for you than in plain sight... right in the middle of those most dedicated to finding you!"

Joe poured himself a drink of good Kentucky bourbon, neat and lifted the glass in a toast. "To you old man... you really pulled the wool over all our eyes!" He downed it quickly. Next step was to call the Council and make his report. Although... he wasn't quite certain just how he was going to explain how he knew this piece of information... perhaps he should keep it to himself... at least for now... until the opportunity arose to make his report. After all... they would not approve of his personal relationship with MacLeod... or Richie... or Amanda. If they found out... he'd be lucky to get sacked! There were penalties for those who misused the Watcher oath... even for good reasons.

The door opened and in walked the devil himself. Adam Pierson... Methos... slouched in... his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his long dark coat. There was a sheepish grin on his face. He walked over to the bar.

"You son of a bitch!" Joe began, and then just laughed. "Buy you a beer?"

"You read my mind Joe!" Pierson grinned and reached for the offered beer. "We need to talk."

Joe agreed, "Oh yeah... we need to talk."

***

Three hours later they were still talking. They had taken a table in an out-of-the-way corner and while Joe let Mike handle the bar and the crowds... he and Methos talked. 

Joe had listened while the immortal had explained he was just trying to survive... that he was not making fun of the Watchers... that he respected the work they were doing... that he knew one day their Chronicles would be all that was left of the immortals. He answered no questions about his own life... pointedly ignoring or shrugging off any Joe would ask. 

Maybe someday, he had told him... but for now... he needed to stay where he was. If Joe felt the need to tell anyone... then he was gone... and no one would ever find him again... at least not for another few hundred years.

"Joe," Methos said, "you bent the rules to make a friend of MacLeod. I'm not asking you to be my friend... just to keep my secret for a while."

"You forget," Joe retorted, "we were friends. I thought Adam Pierson and I were friends."

"I am still Adam Pierson... if you let me." Methos regarded him honestly. "I am no threat... no danger to anyone... I just want to do my job."

"But your job is to find Methos!" Joe laughed.

"Well... maybe I will one of these days," he chuckled and took a sip of beer.

And that was when Joe had made up his mind. In for a penny... in for a pound. Keep his mouth shut and maybe... just maybe... he could get to know the eldest of all living immortals just a little bit better. And what a Chronicle that would be!


	6. 6

****

Chapter 6

Seacouver 2003

Duncan tossed the baseball to Derrick. "_The kid's getting pretty good at this_," he thought. Every kid should have the chance to play baseball. He watched as Derrick did a windup and pitched the ball back to him. Duncan deftly caught it and threw it back with a laugh.

Behind them at one of the chess tables sat Duncan's mortal friend George Layton who had helped get Derrick settled with a reliable foster family a month before. George had worked for Social Services for over thirty years before he had retired, and he had pulled some strings to make certain Derrick was well placed. Duncan still owed him an explanation... and he knew George wasn't going to wait much longer on just what had happened and why it had been necessary to leave Derrick's "sister" Ellie out of the official records.

But George had done it.

Now he was operating as a go-between for Derrick so that the boy could see Duncan occasionally. Duncan re-caught the ball. "Not bad, Derrick." He smiled at the ten-year old, who grinned back like any normal kid, out for a game of catch. He tossed the ball back to the boy.

"Thanks Duncan! I practice at school and Ron's even showing me a few things."

Duncan stiffened and looked around. The ball went whizzing past him. He waved at Derrick and started after the ball. It rolled until it stopped at the feet of the immortal he had sensed.

Methos leaned over and picked up the ball, "Think you missed one." He tossed it past MacLeod and straight to Derrick.

"Hey," the boy grinned, "I remember you... Adam, right... Duncan's friend." The boy trotted over.

"Fancy meeting you here," Duncan offered, wondering just what the older immortal was up to.

"Just passing by... saw you here... thought I'd say 'Hello'."

Derrick had reached the men by this time and was casually tossing the ball into his glove over and over. "You said you play chess? Play a game?" He grinned.

Methos stuffed his hands deeply into pockets, "Sure... why not," and let Derrick lead the way over to the chess table where he introduced George who eyed Methos warily.

"I'll bet you like black." Derrick said, taking his seat behind the white pieces and motioning for 'Adam' to take the black.

Methos smirked, "However did you guess?"

The boy shrugged. Duncan sat on the fourth side of the table, opposite George. He mumbled something to George about 'Adam' being an old friend from overseas. George just nodded. He knew nothing about immortals... and Duncan wanted to keep it that way.

Derrick made the first move, and Methos followed suit quickly. As with the games Derrick and George played... this one was fast and furious. Only... instead of it lasting seconds and over in a few moves... this one went on and on... faster and faster... the pieces fell... until only three pieces remained... the white queen and the two kings. 

During the game... neither Derrick nor Methos looked at the pieces... they looked at each other... to be precise... they looked at each other's eyes... as though it was there that they read the other's movements.

"You got him now, Derrick," George laughed. "You still have the queen."

But Derrick ignored the queen. She sat alone and unused on the side of the board, as if she were the prize the two kings were fighting for. Round and round the two kings circled.

Duncan attempted to end the game... "It's a draw you two."

George was shaking his head over the whole thing. He had never seen a game quite like this.

Suddenly Derrick's hand paused on his king. The boy smiled and then flicked his king over. "You win..." he whispered. Then he blinked and shook his head a moment. He glanced down at the board then at the three men around him. "Great game, huh!" His infectious grin breaking the odd moment.

Duncan glanced at Methos who had a haunted expression on his face. "Yeah..." the immortal murmured. "See ya later Mac." Methos rose and slouched hurriedly away.

MacLeod strode after him. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About just what is going on here... and don't tell me he's just a kid!"

Methos took a deep breath and bit his lip, "But he is MacLeod... he's just a kid who has potential. Don't read any more into this than that. You may be very disappointed if you do." Then he pivoted and stalked off.

Duncan watched him walk away. He wanted to run after his friend and force a confrontation. But leaving now would raise too many questions for George. He was already suspicious. And then there was Derrick to consider. Duncan turned back to the table and shrugged as if to say, "Sorry about that."

***

On the bluff above the park, Peter Taylor watched as his old adversary Adams stalked out of the park. "This just gets better and better!" He'd had no luck finding Adams in decades. The man had a way of just vanishing on him.

He hadn't even been looking for him this time. He'd been researching MacLeod. He knew the Highlander frequented Seacouver and had been keeping an eye out for him. Peter had just happened to be at a restaurant across the street from the park when he'd seen MacLeod enter the park with an old man and a small boy.

He'd carefully followed, making certain not to get too close. Taylor was using his binoculars to get a better view when he'd seen Adams join them. He had grinned at that point... first he would take care of Adams... then he would get back to MacLeod... he could always find MacLeod. That man never completely disappeared.

Taylor took one more look at the chess table to get a better look at MacLeod's friends before he left. He lowered the binoculars suddenly... now that was odd. The boy had been staring at him. He looked through the lenses once more. Yes, the boy was definitely staring at him. Taylor lowered the binoculars once more and this time put them in their case. Better follow Adams while he had the chance. But he felt as though a chill wind was blowing on him.


	7. 7

****

Chapter 7

Flight to New York

The chess game with Derrick had been a little more intense than Methos had planned. It had just been so easy to fall into the pattern of the games he and Darius had once shared. Those fast as lightning games that had reflected the Game as much as anything else.

That the boy could play that way, was just one more sign that something might be there. What Methos now needed to do was go home. He had some research carefully hidden away in London and the sooner he got to the bottom of this... the better.

Besides... MacLeod was definitely suspicious and Methos did not think he could delay for much longer answering the Highlander's questions. And Methos had no real answers! Not yet!

Upon his return to the hotel... he bought an airline ticket on-line under an alias, packed up his computer and what little he had with him and headed for the airport by taxi. He'd already been here too long. True, by going on back to London he'd be back on Watcher radar... but that was the way it was. Besides, he could always vanish again if he needed to. They had yet to figure out all his tricks.

Once on the plane, he settled into his seat and decided to take a quick nap on the cross-country flight. He slouched down in the seat and closed his eyes...

**********

__

Paris 1452

It was dark by the time the two men finished the chess game. Darius and Methos had been so caught up in the movements that they had failed to notice the gathering gloom of evening. It was the sense of the approach of another immortal that had finally made each of them look up and about.

In the doorway was Eleanor, looking tired. "What are you two doing sitting in here in the dark?" she had laughed and shaken her head at both of them.

"How is Odette?" asked Darius, the concern evident in his voice. The priest rose to light a candle, which faintly illuminated his cell off of the small two hundred and fifty-year-old church he now called home.

"Twins... breech... that is what took so long. Both are healthy. Their births will probably be registered here within the week." She smiled, but Methos could see that she was nearly asleep on her feet.

"Let me walk you home..." he said rising.

"I am capable of walking home alone. It is not far. I just wanted Darius to know that mother and sons are well." She brushed the lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes behind one ear. But the movement suggested just how weary she truly was.

Not to be brushed off, Methos walked over to her. "You are almost asleep as you stand. I will take you home." He took her arm and maneuvered her toward the door of the church.

"Good night my friends," he heard Darius say behind him.

Eleanor leaned into Methos as they walked. For a moment... it almost seemed like old times. He put an arm about her and she did not resist his touch. Perhaps, he thought, we might finally be working our way through some of this. When he had returned from Africa to Europe a few years ago... she had seemed unusually distant. Somehow he had thought their brief reunions in the last few hundred years had healed all the old wounds. Apparently they hadn't. She was friendly enough... just distant.

He had not honestly expected her to still be here in Paris. He had expected her to be long gone from this place... and he had hoped that Darius... bewitched by Aella's elfin magic would also have left Paris. But now both of them seemed entrenched here.

He whispered into her hair, "You need to move on, Aella, you've been here too long."

"Soon..." she whispered back and looked up at him. "Soon..." She twisted out of his embrace. "I can manage Edward. Good night." She turned and was swiftly gone in the darkness, and he had no sense of her anywhere. "_We need a wake!_" he thought. He would contact Phillip... they needed a party and they needed to get her out of Paris, even if only for a little while. Maybe even Darius would join them once more. Even more than getting Aella out of here... he needed to get Darius out of here. His eyes followed a shadow lurking nearby. Watcher? If so, Methos would deal with him. 

He pivoted and made his way toward the shadow that attempted to melt into the darkness. Still, Methos followed. Finally he reached the man.

"I've done nothing, good sir... I am only an old beggar... I have nothing..." the old man sobbed as Methos roughly searched him. There was no medallion, nothing to indicate he was a Watcher. Perhaps he was just what he claimed.

"I don't like being followed, old man... don't ever do that again!" Methos pitched his voice low, but let all the menace he could muster filter through. The old man nodded. Methos turned and walked away. He definitely needed to get Aella and Darius out of here... even if they resisted!

**********

As Methos shifted in his airline seat in the semi-darkness, five rows behind him on the other side... he was watched by unfriendly eyes.

Marvin Grant watched the man his boss, Peter Taylor, had assigned to him. "Be careful," Taylor had warned him. "Adams is very suspicious. Don't look at him and if he notices you... back off and call me immediately. I don't want to lose him this time!"

"Why not confront him yourself?" the young man had asked.

"Oh... I will... but on my own terms, " Taylor had smiled. 

"What'd he do to you, boss?" Grant had insisted while accepting the ticket and the envelope of money.

"Something I have never forgiven him for... something I will make him pay for!"

Grant had shivered at the malice and hatred in his employer. He'd heard from others that the guy had a real sadistic streak... but he'd never really seen it or any reason to fear him... "But now," he thought, "... I hope I'm never on the receiving end of Taylor's hate."

So here he was... halfway across the country. Once in New York... his part was done. Someone else would continue to follow Adams. Someone would be on his trail until whenever Taylor decided to get his revenge. Grant shrugged. His part was just to be certain they didn't lose track of Adams between here and the plane's arrival in New York.

"Not likely as this was a non-stop flight... but Taylor had insisted!" Grant resisted the urge to catch forty winks before they landed. "If I sleep and he vanishes," he thought, "Taylor's like to have my head." So he watched the sleeping man who seemed totally oblivious to Grant's gaze.


	8. 8

****

Chapter 8

Seacouver

Derrick couldn't sleep. Oh... he'd feigned sleep when Betty had checked on him... but he was awake and watching the moving patterns of shadows on the ceiling. The house had quieted down. In a little while... he could count on his foster parents being asleep.

His mind raced through the events of the day just passed. Nothing made sense to him. And there was something about the man with the binoculars. Something was eerily familiar. But he couldn't remember ever having seen him before. And then there was that chess game with Duncan's friend...

Derrick rolled over in the bed... replaying the moves. The game itself had not been the problem. Both he and Adam had seen that final confrontation in the opening moves. Unlike George, who was very good, Adam could play like Derrick did. It was all in his opponent's eyes. Every move... every counter-move... every strategy. It was if everything else in the game had led to the final confrontation. Then Derrick had just ended it. 

Derrick rolled over once more... finally deciding to take a chance that Betty and Ron were finally asleep. He rose and softly padded to the door in his bare feet. He opened the door and quietly made his way to Ron's study, pausing only momentarily outside their bedroom to listen to their even breathing.

Once in Ron's study, he moved the mouse and settled into his search patterns. He had no idea what he was searching for. He just knew he'd know it when he found it. He knew he'd have to keep an eye on his time... he'd have to leave enough time to be certain to erase all evidence of his nocturnal activities. Faster and faster he searched. He entered phrases and place names and explored the sites that came up.

Before Carrera had shown up last year and frightened Ellie so badly that she seemed to have lost all sense... she had worked with him on computer. She had sat him in her lap and shown him basic stuff... and then she had shown him a few things that he did not even think Ron, who was a programmer knew. There was a whole separate level to the Internet... things flying back and forth beneath the interest of most casual users.

"Watch... Listen... Learn!" she had whispered in his ear. And he had. But had he learned enough? He kept asking Duncan if he had heard from Ellie. But so far there was nothing. Maybe this time Derrick was the one who needed to find her. He was worried about that man on the street looking through the binoculars at Adam and Duncan and him. She needed to know. But just what was it she needed to know?

His fingers flew faster and faster. Suddenly he paused. One of the searches had turned up a place that sounded familiar: Niebos, Greece. He clicked on the link.

A photograph of a sunlit island in the Aegean Sea came up. Another photo showed some ruins situated at the top of a mountain. There was just some tourist type information. There was no reason why this site should hold his attention. And yet...

He noted the "email us for information link" and paused. He looked around and listened carefully. His foster parents were still asleep. He clicked on the link and typed in 'Ellie?' and then placed the mouse over the send button.

He could recall some of the messages she had sent and received. They were keyboard characters that had never made sense to him. Nor had she ever explained. Not words as much as hidden messages of some sort. Derrick flexed his fingers. No he needed words... he needed her to know something was wrong. And he needed her to know not to reply!

He edited the message... then smiled and hit send. He backed off the link and spent the next ten minutes carefully erasing all signs of the sites he had visited and the message he had sent. Ron was smart. He'd notice the extra activity if Derrick weren't careful. Ron and Betty were very conscientious. They tried to oversee all his computer time. Finally satisfied... Derrick made certain all was the way it was when he'd started, then silently left the den and tiptoed quietly back to his room.

He climbed back into the bed and held the pillow in his arms and dreamed he was with Ellie... the two of them, before Carrera had come... the two of them dancing... eating ice cream... reading stories... helping people. He wanted that back! He liked where he was... but he wanted Ellie back!

***

****

Niebos, Greece

Eleanor had reached the top of Mt. Niebos and the ruins in less than forty minutes. She was barefoot. Somehow, that had still seemed a requirement. She leaned over and breathed raggedly. Then began to stretch out her hamstrings and do knee bends to loosen everything up. "Forty minutes," she grinned. She was definitely getting her stamina back.

Once stretched out she took a swig from her water bottle and stared out at the view. Except for a nagging feeling that something was wrong... she could just relax. Her plans were to jog down to the beach and then back to the villa along the beach path. If this exercise had worked for Phillip... doing this daily after Carlo had died... it would work for her.

She had become what she most hated in herself... a victim of those more powerful. She no longer wanted that. She wanted to regain her own independence and be able to stand on her own two feet once more. She didn't know why... she had never known why... but it was something Aja's voice had always whispered to her. But the Lady gave no answers. And since the cathartic events of their wake, Eleanor's voices were silent. Not even Kae Dhun's presence was felt.

Once she had rested... she pulled out both of the long knives she had secured in the harness at her back. She flexed their weight in her hands... flipped them both expertly into the air so that they twirled around before landing once more in her palms... then she began the dance. She whipped around... swinging both blades in an intricate pattern and stepping, kicking and sliding in the old familiar steps... both the old ones... and the new variations on them she had invented over the years. Her mind seemed to float above her and she seemed to watch herself in the intricate movements of the dance. For a moment she was free.

"Ellie!"

Derrick's voice seemed to call to her. Eleanor stopped, frozen in mid-movement... once more within her own body. But there was nothing more. Eleanor re-sheathed the knives and took off back down the Pilgrim's Path at a dead run. The beach and the easy jog back now forgotten. All she wanted was to get to the villa the fastest way she knew. And that included taking a few shortcuts down the path that had snaked lazily back and forth up the mountain.

She entered the villa and headed directly for Phillip's office. He was there at his desk thoughtfully looking into his computer.

"I think there's a message here for you," he said, as if not surprised in the least at her sudden arrival.

Eleanor looked over Phillip's shoulder. On the screen was the message. "Eleanor... Danger... D". She let out a long breath and glanced at Phillip before she pulled away to pace the room.

"Little Sister... you want to tell me who this is and just how he knows you're here?" Phillip looked at her pointedly. "Why would he put a message like this on a tourist web page?"

Eleanor looked evenly at Phillip. She had mentioned Derrick to him... but had said nothing to him about her suspicions about the boy.

"It's Derrick... I think he's like me... Reborn!"

Phillip's eyes widened.


	9. 9

****

Chapter 9

Seacouver

Joe put down the phone and nodded at MacLeod. "That was Tim Wyatt... Methos' field watcher. Methos used his Adam Pierson alias to buy tickets to London."

"An alias the Watchers know about," Duncan said pointedly.

"Yeah... but he knows they... we know about that one. It may just be his way of letting everybody know he's on his way home. Tim figures he'll meet up with him at Heathrow." Joe shook his head. "That kid still thinks he can develop a personal relationship with the old guy!"

"Not very likely..." Duncan chuckled. "Do you think he bought tickets for anywhere else under another alias," he suddenly asked, "I wouldn't put it past him."

"Maybe... but if he could do that... why make us think he's headed home. He's got a layover in New York in about an hour for about fifteen minutes. Someone's there..."

"Watching?" Duncan smiled at his friend.

"It's what we do!" Joe chuckled. "So should I book a ticket too."

Duncan set down the scotch... then took a deep breath. "I don't suppose you'd stay behind if I asked you to."

"Hell no!" Joe responded emphatically.

"Then book two seats on the first available!"

"Now you're talkin'." Joe dialed the airlines to make arrangements.

Duncan leaned back in his chair and rubbed one hand over his brow. He felt the beginnings of a slight headache that he knew was the result of the tension he'd been feeling since Methos had come back into town. Since this afternoon and that chess game... his mind had been racing trying to figure out just what was going on. Evidently Methos saw some of the same things in Derrick that Duncan himself had seen... and that chess game... Duncan had had a hard time putting George's mind at rest. His friend wanted answers! Derrick's being some kind of chess prodigy the old man could understand... but that game.

Once more Duncan recalled the speed of that game and that final confrontation of kings... it made no sense. He wanted answers! Ellie had managed to slip away last month without giving him any! He was going to make certain Methos gave him some even if he had to confront him.

Joe hung up the phone. "We got the red-eye... should be just enough time to get to the airport if we hurry."

Duncan downed the last of the scotch. "I'll drive." 

***

They left the car in long-term parking and barely made it through the security checks. Duncan had to check his sword, and Joe knew it made his friend a bit nervous to have it out of reach. But on the plane... there didn't seem to be any choice. He planned to retrieve it in New York. They'd have a bit of a layover before the next trans-Atlantic flight. He'd recheck it again once they boarded that.

On the plane they settled down to get what little sleep they could. It was going to be a long night.

***

****

Somewhere over the Atlantic

When the man he had on MacLeod told him the Highlander had also taken a flight to New York with likely connections to London, Peter Taylor narrowed his eyes and tried to think what to do. He, himself, was already in the air over the Atlantic, having gotten slightly ahead of Adams by his choice of flight and several well-placed bribes. He hadn't planned on MacLeod coming so soon. The two had looked like they were having an argument this afternoon. Maybe MacLeod also wanted Adams' head. If that were so... he would have to get in line. Taylor used the air-phone to set some additional things up. Adams was his! He had waited too long and searched too hard not to get that bastard's quickening!

There was nothing more he could do. He settled back into his first class seat, quietly ordered another drink from the steward and sipped... remembering...

**************

__

West Texas 1882

Pete Taylor glinted into the afternoon sun and stared at the almost mirage-like figure of a rider approaching on the horizon. He didn't like this... he didn't like this at all.

Mr. Drummond had left him in charge while him and most of the boys were on the cattle drive. It was Pete's job to look after the place and keep an eye out on Missus Drummond and the girls. The twenty-two year old Pete had been taken in by the Drummonds ten years ago and they treated him well... but Mr. Drummond had been quite clear... if anything happened... Pete would pay for it.

Pete watched as the rider's image grew. He was definitely coming here. When he rode at a slow walk into the yard Pete wiped the sweat off his face with the back of one hand and resettled his hat... hoping he looked old enough and mean enough to keep this stranger at bay if needed.

One glance showed him Missus Drummond had the shotgun, just in case.

"Afternoon," the stranger said as he halted near Pete. "Name's Adams. Wonderin' if I could get some water for me and my horse? We're both kinda parched."

"Been ridin' long?" Pete asked, still not certain if he should comply with the stranger's request.

"Long enough to be thirsty." The stranger was wearin' a long duster and a dark hat. He had chaps and some wicked lookin' spurs. Dang if Pete didn't think they could slice right through a man's throat they was so big.

Beneath the dark hat... the stranger's dark eyes regarded him warily. The slight breeze ruffled the collar of his duster and the long dark hair on his head lifted slightly. He was clean-shaven, though in need of a shave. He made no move to get off the horse.

"Oh for heaven's sake Pete... ask the man to have a drink and water his horse. You act as tho' ever one that rides onto this place is gonna kill us all." Missus Drummond stepped off the porch into the sunlight and raised one hand over her eyes. But she still held the shotgun in her other arm... just in case.

"I'm Libby Drummond, Mr. Adams... these are my girls and that's Pete. He'll water your horse... we got some lemonade if'n yo're interested. My husband always says my lemonade washes away the trail dust better'n anything." She smiled warmly at the stranger.

"That'd be most kind of you ma'am," Adams said as he dismounted and handed the reins to Pete with a curt nod. He sat on the edge of the porch for about an hour talkin' with Missus Drummond while Pete did his chores... at least the ones close-by so he could keep an eye on them. Despite Adams' easy manner... Pete didn't trust him. There was somethin' cold in that man's eyes... somethin' dead.

Missus Drummond even invited him to join them at supper but the stranger declined and was remounting his horse when he stopped and looked off into the horizon. There was another party of riders comin' in at a slow gallop.

Adams jumped on his horse and tipped his hat at Missus Drummond with his thanks and rode off at a full gallop in the other direction from those men. It shore looked like he know'd them... and wanted out of there.

Well... they'd been bad men. The leader... a man with a scar down his face had stared after the fleeing Adams and then had grinned. Then he and his men went to work on the family. Pete was knocked out in the first blow... at least that's what he thought had happened.

When he woke up... they was all dead... Missus Drummond... Kate and Lucy. They was dead, the house was burnin' and the stock was gone! He know'd Missus Drummond had gotten off one shot at one of the men... but they was no bodies of them layin' about. 

Needless to say, when Mr. Drummond and the rest of the boys got back... Mr. Drummond had been plenty upset. And after his initial grief... he'd whipped Pete pretty good. Thing was, Pete'd healed fast. Real fast. He left after that. They was scared of him!

He'd wandered from town to town for a couple years... lookin' for work. Sometimes he'd gotten these really blazin' headaches. But the only other thing he noticed was if'n somethin' happened to him... if'n he was hurt... he healed. Faster'n anything.

After one of those headaches... he'd met a man who had told him of immortals and the Game. He taught him the Rules... how to fight... how to survive... how to read... how to write. When he died at the hands of another immortal... Pete had stood by. Then as the other was recovering... he'd taken the victor's head. And he'd been taking heads that way ever since.

A few years later, he'd run across Adams in San Francisco. A pretty young thing was on his arm. The two of them... immortal... and in watching them... Pete decided the woman meant everything to Adams. He'd take from this man what had been taken from him... a life. Then he'd take his head.

He waited for the woman to be alone... and then he challenged her. She laughed at him and walked by. He tried to pull her into an alley but she flipped him somehow and walked away still laughing. He got up to follow her and felt Adams behind him. Adams slammed him up against the wall. The man did not remember him! Pete was just some greenhorn immortal who if he wanted to keep his head should leave the lady alone! "Live, learn... grow stronger... fight another day!" Adams had told him as he had held Pete against that wall.

Pete'd tried to force a challenge right then and there with Adams... but the man had turned from him and walked sternly out into the busy street. He'd taken the arm of the laughing green-eyed woman once more and the two of them had simply vanished into the crowd. Pete was furious. They thought he was nothin'. He didn't like that feelin'. He was an immortal... he was a force to be reckoned with!

Pete decided to bide his time. Adams had told him to "live, learn and grow stronger." So he would. He was not someone to be forgotten or ignored. He'd practice. He'd get better. Adams' head would be his! No matter how long it took! No matter what!

**********

Taylor stirred out of his black reverie as the pilot came on the speaker to announce they were coming into London. This time... he thought... he'd make certain he found Adams alone. There would be no escape this time. He would lie... cheat... steal... kill... Hell, he'd do anything to make that coward's head his.


	10. 10

****

Chapter 10

Niebos

Phillip straightened in his chair, "Maybe you better explain what that means... 'Reborn.' Aren't we all reborn?"

Eleanor took a deep breath. "Methos never told you?" When Phillip shook his head... she drew up a chair and sat opposite her old teacher. "I don't tell stories well... as you recall... but I'll try." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes momentarily in thought, then she asked, "When did he first tell you about Aja?"

Phillip thought for a moment, then said simply, "About twenty years ago... he was asking lots of questions about Danae... I wanted to know why... that's when he told me he thought he may have known her... Honestly... until this last time... he'd never really said much. Even when he told me he was the mythological Methos... I didn't really think much about it."

Eleanor smiled. "That's our Methos! He first mentioned Aja to me in 1882... remember Powder Wells!"

"I remember..." Phillip grinned broadly and chuckled at the memory, "both of you were arguing pretty hard that time and that's when I finally realized that you two must have been married before your first death. Only married couples ever seem to fight quite like that! Somehow I got the impression that maybe he'd killed you."

"No... 'he' didn't... sometimes I wish he had... it might have been easier than what actually happened... " Eleanor trembled slightly as she closed her eyes. Phillip sensed the pain that this memory had caused her. He'd never wanted to ask... he'd never wanted her to ever feel pain again. 

Eleanor's eyes snapped open and the words came at a rush. "I saw him murdered on holy ground... I was kidnapped. If I'd known he was immortal... that he was coming back... I wouldn't have just given up. If I'd known I was... I'd have made certain they killed me there. Instead... I just... submitted to whatever it was they wanted... waiting to die. When they finally did kill me... I was..." she shrugged, "... relieved... Then I woke up. Edward... was there... he'd killed them all. Then he told me what I was. I hated him for not having trusted me... for not having told me."

She looked up at him, a weak smile about her lips, "That's really what we were finally arguing about at Powder Wells. Over the centuries... he always asked me to trust him... or warned me not to trust him... well... I wanted to know just 'when the hell he was going to trust me!' ... and that's when he finally told me his name. That's when he told me about himself... about his dark past... about Aja... about what I was like in my childhood. That's why I left you soon after... to meet him... so we could travel some by ourselves... clear the air... And that's when I finally got a handle on Kae Dhun and the others and was able to really ignore them for so long... until being back in Paris seemed to bring them out again." She wiped a stray tear from one eye. "They're still there... they'll always be in me... and when I'm not at my best..." she smiled impishly and shrugged, "that's when they try to put in an appearance."

Phillip snorted but nodded knowingly. He'd too often seen that flash in her eyes over the last few centuries. At least now he could laugh about it.

Eleanor shook her head. "Only took him a thousand years... Not very trusting is he?"

"And I take it this 'Reborn' business...?" Phillip's voice lifted and faded away.

"Oh...I don't have any answers, Phillip. Methos felt that some of the things I'd done as a child were signs that something of Aja was in me. Remember how you used to say how much I sometimes reminded you of Danae. I didn't know that they were the same person. Until I knew about Aja... until I had a name to go with that soft voice in my head I sometimes heard when I needed to make a decision... I knew nothing. I still don't... not really."

"So what about this boy?"

"When I met him... he called me _'Eleanor...Lady of Light_.' Imagine that... words I never thought to hear again. I didn't know what to think so I just latched onto him... thinking maybe somehow... something of Darius had somehow found its way back to me. But I honestly thought it was all in my head. Until this..." she gestured at the computer.

"Understand, Phillip... I don't remember these things I'm supposed to have said and done before my first death... I only know what Methos told me about them. I know he was doing research on the matter... but I don't think it ever led anywhere... and then Darius died and I blamed Methos for not watching him... protecting him... I didn't realize he didn't know... that he hadn't realized..." Eleanor's voice drifted off and she bit her lip.

"That you loved Darius." Phillip smiled when she looked at him sharply. "Oh... I've known for centuries... almost from the first. All I needed to do was to look at the way you two looked at each other when you thought no one was watching to know that. But the years passed... he remained where he was and you... well... you'd leave Paris and Darius behind and come with us on our little escapades and you and Edward...Methos... seemed so right with each other... I wasn't certain what was going on in that head of yours. And Methos..." Phillip shrugged. "Well... He always did seem to have a blind spot where you were concerned... It was almost as if he never really wanted to know what you were thinking... feeling... as if he were afraid if he looked at you too hard or asked you too many questions... you'd turn from him entirely... not just now and then."

Eleanor nodded in understanding. "Sometimes I didn't know what I wanted. It's not as if Darius and I had a physical relationship... not really... it was just this connection we had. I never understood it... every time I left... I only wanted to get back to him. And then once I was there, I couldn't wait to leave with you and Edward. Whenever I was with Edward... Methos... I trusted only him. He could always make me feel as if I belonged with him," she sighed, shaking her head. "But then he'd remind me that I couldn't trust him... not really."

"I think, in many ways, I loved them both..." Eleanor laughed suddenly, "Actually... sometimes I think I hated them both... because they each had other agendas... other commitments... secrets... things they'd never discuss. I was never the top priority for either of them. Sometimes everything was just so very confusing." Eleanor shook her head. "Anyway... I really need to talk with Methos about this," Eleanor gestured at the computer. "I need to go to London. Can you get me a flight... the fastest and most direct flight?"

"You could just call..."

"No... he and I really need to talk... face to face... alone... without your mediating presence. Get me a ticket on the fastest flight to London. I'm out of here on the afternoon ferry." Eleanor rose and headed for her room and a shower. 

Phillip pulled up a travel schedule and made the arrangements using one of Eleanor's many aliases. Once Eleanor had made up her mind about something... she could seldom be dissuaded. And for once... Eleanor had finally given him some things to think about. He wondered where he fit into this "Reborn" business. To his knowledge... the only dealings he had ever had with Danae... Aja... was that she had taught him to fight... to be the best swordsman ever. And Eleanor thought Methos was closed-mouthed. Phillip chuckled, "They are a pair those two."


	11. 11

****

Chapter 11

London

A relieved Methos finally arrived in London. There had been foul weather in New York... so instead of a fifteen-minute layover... it had been several hours. Now he stood slouched at the Heathrow baggage claim... worrying about just where the hell his luggage was. He was in a bad mood that was getting worse. It wasn't helped when he saw Timothy Wyatt waiting for him.

He had known that by buying his tickets using his Adam Pierson persona and passport... that the Watchers would pick up on him here in London... but this guy was an idiot. Red-haired, thin as a rail, glasses, freckles... Timothy Wyatt had a serious case of hero worship. Or at least Methos worship! He seemed to think he was in some sort of special position and always made certain that the object he was watching knew he was there. He seemed to keep hoping that Methos would deign to actually talk to him... fat chance!

Finally Methos' bag with his sword came through customs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he picked up the bag and felt the comforting presence of his sword once more. Memories of Phillip's comments about lost luggage had resurfaced during the wait. Maybe he should look into buying his own Lear jet!

Methos shouldered his bag and brushed past Wyatt on his way out of the terminal.

"My car is waiting... I... I... I could drive you." Wyatt stammered as Methos came to a stop outside and glanced around looking for a taxi. He groaned. None available! And it was starting to rain! Could this night get any worse!

"Really... sir... its no problem... I'd just drive you..." Wyatt moved to stand in front of Methos with a hangdog expression on his face. 

"_This guy definitely needs re-assignment_," thought the immortal. He growled at Wyatt. "So where's the car?"

"Over here, sir..." Wyatt broke into a grin and led the way to a small Audi in short term parking.

He opened the trunk, but Methos tossed his bag into the back seat and climbed into the front.. Wyatt shut the trunk and came around to the driver's side, then climbed in.

"Thank you, sir..." he started the ignition.

"Wyatt... don't call me sir and don't talk... just drive!" Methos slouched down in the seat praying the young man would get the message.

"Yes sir... err... sure... I... I... mean," suddenly at a loss for words, he shut up and drove.

The silence lasted for all of ten minutes. Finally Methos knew Wyatt was ready to start again when the young man cleared his throat at a red light. "Sir... I mean... what should I call you?"

Methos took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head, already regretting his haste that had led him to take the Watcher up on the drive. He had known him slightly when he had been inside. Tim Wyatt was honest and earnest and just a royal pain. He'd thought so even then. Evidently the Watcher Council had thought if Methos had known his Watcher from before... he might open up to him. Either that... or this was some new form of Watcher torture.

"Just call me Adam or Pierson like you did before. I haven't changed... I'm still who I was."

The light turned green, Wyatt stepped on the gas, "But now you're so much more than just..."

"Wyatt... just drive... I'm tired... I've had a long flight and I'm not really sociable."

"But you talk to Dawson... everyone knows it..." Wyatt insisted. "Why not me... there's so much you could tell me... tell us."

Methos sighed once more. "Maybe I'll think about it if you just shut up and drive." Tim flashed him a smile and concentrated on the road ahead.

If it hadn't been for the three-car pile up... and the hour-long wait on the side of the road... that ploy might have worked. As it was... Tim had started in on the questions once more... and then again... and then again... until Methos had threatened to walk home... even if it were pouring down raining!

Finally they were on the move again and Wyatt had simply shut up! He had seemed so subdued that once they reached the immortal's house... Methos had considered throwing his Watcher a bone. Then he thought better of it.

He pulled the bag out of the back seat. "Thanks for the lift," he mumbled and slammed the door. Walking away, he did not even venture a glance back to the Watcher. After all, he did not want to encourage him.

At the door, Methos punched in the alarm code and unlocked the front door, carefully and quickly slipping inside. Even before he reached to turn on a light... he felt the presence of an immortal. Quickly he slung the bag to the ground and pulled the broadsword out. He slipped out of his coat, then slowly made his way through the darkened house. Once he made it to what had once been used as a ballroom but was now his workout room... he could vaguely make out a figure in the darkness. He swung his sword around and readied himself for the attack!


	12. 12

****

Chapter 12

Joe and Duncan had made better time in their trans-Atlantic flight than had Methos. First they had not had nearly as long a layover as Methos'd had. And their plane had picked up a good tailwind crossing over the Atlantic. The keys to the rental car were waiting at the rental counter and they had made good time across London to their ancient friend's home... not having either a storm or a car wreck to hold them up. If Methos wasn't there... it was at least the place to start looking for him.

During the drive, Joe attempted to call Tim Wyatt... without luck. The kid must have turned his cell off. "Step on it Mac... I got a bad feeling about this."

Duncan wove in and out of traffic at an alarming speed. Finally he pulled up sharply at Methos'.

"Hey... that's Tim's car," Joe was out of the car as fast as he could make it and over to the Audi. "Mac... come here!"

Duncan had been headed up to the house, but paused and looked back. "What's wrong?"

"Damn... it looks bad... he's still got a pulse though..." Joe phoned the Watcher on call. "This is Dawson... I need an ambulance at Methos', we got a man down and it looks bad." He snapped his cell shut. "Ten minutes," he told MacLeod.

Duncan had knelt by the body of the young Watcher and was stopping the bleeding. "Looks like knife wounds," he told Joe. Dawson handed him a neck scarf he'd had against the chill. Duncan used it as a compress. "Hold this on him... I need to go to the house."

Joe nodded, "Go... go... I got this." Joe maneuvered himself onto the ground.

Duncan drew his _katana_ and headed once more up the stairs and to the front door. The door was closed but not locked. Inside, Duncan could hear the clash of cold steel against steel. He couldn't interfere, but he could let them know he was here... that he would back his friend up if the need arose. Duncan entered the darkened house.

The sounds of the fighting came from the Methos' workout room. He and Duncan had had a few sparring matches in there on several occasions. Sometimes Duncan won... sometimes Methos won. And sometimes... Duncan wondered if the elder immortal were trying to teach him something.

Within the dark practice room he could vaguely see two shadowy figures flailing away at one another at breakneck speed. Sparks flew whenever their blades connected. He was close enough to feel them and be felt by them. But they never wavered. Back and forth... round and round... clash... retreat... lunge... parry... faster and faster. Something about the fight reminded Duncan of the chess game. He reached over and flipped a light switch... 

Methos glanced up at him. Immediately, his opponent managed to slip one leg behind the tall immortal and bring him to his knees. His sword went flying into the air and into the young woman's hands. She brought both it and her own blade up to Methos neck and then paused.

She withdrew both blades and with an impish grin did a small victory dance about her kneeling opponent. "I win... I win... I win..." laughed Ellie. Then she backed away teasingly, with both blades behind her back. "Hi MacLeod," she said laughingly over her shoulder. 

Duncan leaned against the wall and just chuckled. "Why am I not surprised," he finally said.

Methos grumbled, "That wasn't fair... I was distracted. If I hadn't been that would not have worked on me again."

Ellie stuck her tongue out at him, "Doesn't matter... I win!" Then she teasingly walked toward him as he rose to his feet. He leaned over to give her a kiss.

"Remind me to reward you appropriately later."

Ellie laughed and twisted out of his reach... then she tossed him his sword. Methos shook his head and smiled wickedly. "Don't you remember what I taught you about returning a weapon to a still living opponent?" Then he attacked once more.

Ellie fought him off but this time... Methos simply overpowered her, picked her up and threw her on his shoulder. He twirled about with her. When he clasped her tightly, suddenly everything changed.

"Edward! Put me down! Now!" The terror in her voice was suddenly very apparent and very real.

Methos immediately put her down and stepped away, the expression on his face grave and concerned.

Ellie took several deep breaths. She sheathed her short sword in a harness across her back that also contained two long knives, and rubbed her arms. "You know I don't like that... not even in fun." She tossed her head. "Water?"

Methos nodded to a small refrigerator against the left wall. She crossed to it and pulled out a water bottle.

Methos looked at MacLeod. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought you needed help." Duncan shrugged, amused by this turn of events. He'd wanted to see Ellie again and here she was. And this time he was determined to get answers from her. Both she and Methos were going to tell him what was going on... or he wasn't leaving.

"I mean in London, Highlander." Methos leaned in to him. His sword flexed up in his hand. But there was a glint of humor in his eyes.

Duncan shrugged, "I had some questions... you've been avoiding me and I wanted some answers."

At that moment Joe walked in. "They've taken Tim to the hospital."

"Tim? What happened to Tim?" Methos was confused. "I just left him."

"Someone sliced him up pretty good. But he may make it. He's still alive. Wouldn't have been if we hadn't gotten to him when we did..."

Both immortals looked pointedly at Ellie still taking a drink from the water bottle. She turned, "What?..." She glared. "It wasn't me... I don't kill mortals... well" she shrugged..."not so much... any more." Then she stopped... her voice trailed away and there was a stunned look on her face. Her eyes widened.

"Oh Ellie..." Duncan began and motioned at Joe, "this is a friend of mine," he glanced at Joe whose face bore the same expression. Duncan looked back and forth at the two of them. Then Duncan looked at Methos. Where just before there had been an almost playful amusement in the elder immortal's eyes... now he seemed stunned as he glanced back and forth at Joe and Ellie. His broadsword continued to flex up and down reflexively in his right hand.

"Lee..." Joe stammered.

Ellie replaced the cap on the water bottle and smiled. "Hello Joseph..." she said brightly. She set the bottle down and walked over to him... raising her hands to each side of his face. She gave him a brief kiss... then said, "I see you grew a beard."

**********

__

Hawaii, 1968

For Joe Dawson, the last six months had been a living nightmare. It was one thing to decide that finding out about immortal beings was a thing to live for... it was quite another to go through the seemingly endless parade of surgeries... therapy... and waiting to heal. He still felt the pain in his long vanished legs and he was as angry at everything as he could possibly be.

He'd yelled at his physical therapist and used the most disgusting and foul things he could think of on her until Jeannie had just thrown up her hands and run crying from the room. Now Joe was in the gym, taking his anger and frustration out on the facilities by trying to put the basketball through the hoop. He wheeled around in his wheelchair took aim and let one fly. Predictably it bounced off the backboard. 

He screamed a few more obscenities at the ball and the basket and then rolled over to retrieve the ball. He set it in his lap and was headed back for another shot when he noticed a dark-haired young woman in a medical coat lounging against the wall near the door with her arms crossed. She had a thoughtful expression on her face as she watched him.

"Who the hell are you?" he yelled at her, "Some bitch who came down to watch the cripple fall on his ass."

She did not react to anything.

"F*** you!" he screamed then threw the ball with a vengeance at the backboard again. Once more it bounced off. He glanced over at her to see if she were reacting to anything... but she hadn't. She glanced at the ball for a moment but her gaze thoughtfully returned to him. Her head tilted slightly to one side as though she were listening to something.

Joe tossed around a few more obscenities regarding her parentage and rolled over to get the ball. Just as he was reaching over to pick it up, the young woman took hold of the handles of his chair and, without a word, wheeled him around and took off with him out of the gym and swiftly down the corridor past the nurses' station.

Joe screamed profanity the entire way. As they passed the station he saw Jeannie still crying but as she saw them pass by she started to smile through her tears. Several of the nurses actually gave a round of applause.

Joe just screamed the louder. Finally the woman came to a brief stop at some double doors. She reached over to punch the emergency open. The doors swung outward and she wheeled him into a room, stopped in the center, then she reached down to put on his chair brakes and walked off.

She had not said a word the entire trip.

Joe took a deep breath, ready to start his tirade again, when he noticed where he was... the "Quad" ward. Suddenly Joe didn't want to say anything. These were the guys who although they hadn't necessarily lost a limb... were completely helpless. They were paralyzed, most of them from the neck down.

He heard one of the men laugh, "Hey look, guys, L. E.'s brought us an amp to play with." There was general whooping and laughing.

As a new song blared from the sound system, one of the men started singing along with the lyrics, "Gonna wait 'til the midnight hour..." Several others joined in. Before long even Joe had to laugh. He was stunned there was so much joviality here... in a ward with men who had nothing left.

"Hey L. E. ..." one of the patients yelled, "I got an itch for you to scratch."

The young woman laughed once of those light laughs that had always sounded to Joe like tinkling bells, "LeRoy if you got an itch then you don't belong here..."

The man roared.

"Hey amp..." another man cried out. "You want to join us... we play no handed poker every day at five." Joe laughed, again amazed that these guys could find anything to joke about.

"No handed poker," someone else said... "That's a good one... right up there with learning the fox trot."

"In the kingdom of the blind..." another said jerkily moving one arm about him, "the one-eyed man is king."

"Hey..."Joe yelled at the woman who was working with one of the patients. "Hey... what about me... what am I supposed to do." His bad mood had evaporated in the face of where he was... but he was curious as to why he was here.

She shrugged, "You... you can stay or you can leave. It's up to you."

"Why bring me down here, if I can just leave?" Joe demanded.

She looked at him evenly, "Because you can."

Stunned, Joe reached down thoughtfully and released the brakes. He wheeled over to the door. The button was a little high for him. He took a deep breath and tried to shift in the chair to figure out how to reach it when she reached across him smiling. She pushed the button and the doors opened. Joe wheeled through the doors. He turned about once outside and watched the doors close on her amused form.

He didn't even know her name.

**********

"Joe..." MacLeod's voice interrupted Joe's thoughts. "This is the green-eyed woman I mentioned."

It was only then that Joe Dawson realized that Lee's eyes were now green.


	13. 13

****

Chapter 13

"Damn!" Peter Taylor sheathed his sword and seething with anger, withdrew to his parked rental car a few blocks away. He had rushed this plan! He'd thought to catch Adams alone when he entered his house. He'd sliced open the throat of the man's mortal friend... figuring that would just add to his quarry's anger. He'd fight him this time! Instead of laughing at him and moving past him as he always did... Adams'd fight him this time. But... he had not counted on the presence of another immortal in the house.

He hadn't gotten a good look at the unknown immortal, but they must have had a similar plan. Pete had figured just to sit back and wait for that challenge to end then he would do what he normally did... kill the victor while they were still recovering!

Only MacLeod and some other mortal showed up and there had been no Quickening... To top it off, this mortal had called medical authorities for Adams' friend. Taylor had slipped away after that.

Now, fully on the warpath... he drove into one of the seedier sections of London and got out. He was hunting now... and he needed a head... he needed the addictive sense of quickening to refocus his mind. He trolled the streets... bars... and open cafes. Finally he found what he was looking for... a young one.

The kid seemed so at ease in this life... drinking with buddies... laughing and telling jokes... that Peter had thought he might just be still in his first life. All the better... he'd have little skill and his quickening would be just enough to settle Peter once more.

The longhaired and bearded young immortal gazed evenly at Peter as he entered the bar. The man shook his head and excused himself from his friends. He walked over to Peter.

"Josh Riley."

"Peter Taylor."

"I'm not looking for a fight mister... but I can finish one if you want."

"I want!" Peter replied.

Josh, sighed and finished his drink, then led the way out of the bar and down into a deserted alley. Once there, he pulled out his own sword.

Josh Riley was not much of a challenge. He was, in fact, facing his first real combat in the game. He'd been killed only six months before in a motorcycle accident and was still learning the rules. His teacher had told him to be careful... but had let him go into London to celebrate a friend's engagement. It was the last mistake Josh made in his very short life.

As the pitiful quickening faded, Peter Taylor knew everything about Josh Riley. He knew who his teacher was... where to find her... everything. But where once this information would have led him to his next target of opportunity... this time he returned to his car and pulled out his cell phone.

"I want Adams' house watched starting tonight. I want to know who his house-guests are. If they leave... follow them. Put enough people on this to cover all the bases. I'll be in touch." He shut off the cell and leaned back in the driver's seat. He'd get Adams this time... he'd get them all. Then he smiled. The effects of the quickening had completely faded. He was still hungry. He started the car and headed for another part of town to hunt once more.


	14. 14

****

Chapter 14

"Been a long time Lee..." Joe began.

She backed away from him, still smiling, but her eyes regarded him sadly. Her steps led her back to Methos who slung one arm about her shoulders. Methos leaned down and kissed the top of her head. There was a possessive air about the movement.

Lee bit her lips, "I'm sorry I had to bail on you so fast... it was... necessary." She lay her head back on Methos chest.

Joe never thought he'd ever seen such sadness in those gray-green eyes. "What's the deal with the eyes?" he finally asked.

Lee looked at him thoughtfully... as if wondering what he meant... then smiled, "Ohh... Contacts! In the sixties they started making tinted contacts." She shrugged... "Just another layer of disguise... another way to vanish." Then she regarded him soberly. "You looked for me?"

Joe nodded.

Duncan cleared his throat, "I take it you two have already met? And I thought your name was Ellie?"

Ellie laughed, "No MacLeod... my name is whatever you wish it to be. Thirty years ago when I worked at a V.A. hospital it was 'L. E. Edwards'... Lee for short..." she snickered and looked up a moment at Methos and smiled, "I know... I know... not very original."

"So the name I found on your employment records... that whole scenario... was a game?" Joe asked, a hint of anger rising in his voice. "You do that often? Play with people's lives like that?"

Ellie regarded him soberly. "I do what people need. The guys on the Quad ward needed a puzzle to solve, something to focus on besides what had happened to them... what they had lost... and you... you needed a friend to talk to and a challenge to help you move through your own anger and resentment." She shrugged and suddenly twisted free of Methos returning to pick up her water. She removed the cap and finished the water. Then turned back... as if suddenly realizing that he had not seemed surprised at her immortality.

"How did you know about me?" She glanced at Methos, "Watcher?"

Methos nodded, "MacLeod's."

"So... when do Watchers and immortals travel together?" raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking very amused.

"Well... we're friends!" Both MacLeod and Dawson said it at almost the same time... then they glanced at each other and chuckled, the tension broken.

"It's a long story..." MacLeod finally said, "One Methos could probably fill you in on... you do know he's..." His voice trailed off.

Ellie looked at Methos teasingly while he shrugged and mumbled, "Well... you did say I was mellowing... besides... he guessed." He pointed at MacLeod. "And then he told Joe... and... it all just snow-balled from there."

"A thousand years..." Ellie began to tease, "A thousand years before that name escapes your lips. I wait a thousand years and you tell them within moments of meeting them. Why you insufferable... close-mouthed..."

Joe leaned over to Duncan as the two older immortals began a back and forth good-natured bickering, "What language are they speaking?"

MacLeod, who himself was trying to follow the conversation finally shrugged, "I hear some Greek... some Latin... hell... even some Gaelic and French... but it's all mixed up together."

"Well... polite people don't leave their friends out of conversations!" Joe's raised voice got their attention. The two immortals looked at one another and laughed nervously.

"Sorry... old habits!" murmured Methos.

"Polyglot... we call it polyglot... that way no one could ever quite follow what it was we were saying." Ellie grinned broadly, "Of course sometimes it led to more trouble than it was worth."

"I'm sure it comes in handy... " murmured Duncan, "now... can we discuss Derrick!" 

Ellie sobered, "Derrick? Is he all right?" She looked suddenly guilty at not having asked about the boy earlier. "I got a message from him..." She glanced at Methos, "That's why I came... I expected you to be here... when you weren't I waited. I needed to talk to you about Derrick."

MacLeod stepped over to her and grabbed her arm, "A message?"

As soon as his hand touched her arm, she whipped around and twisted his hand. Then she stopped and swallowed. "Don't touch me... I really don't like people touching me."

MacLeod's eyes narrowed. He suddenly recalled a mysterious young woman he had once seen visiting Darius. A woman so clothed and covered he had seen little about her other than her small size. She, too, had once grasped his hand in much the same way. His eyes widened, "That was you that day in Paris!"

Ellie nodded soberly, "That was me... I really was sorry I reacted that way, but... I just don't handle being touched by people I don't know very well."

"What was it you seemed to find so funny that day?" MacLeod was visualizing the humor on the strange young woman's face when he had first introduced himself.

"Oh... that... well... hmmm," she smiled, "I was just thinking about something a friend once said about you..." She shrugged and smiled mysteriously. "Now..." she turned back to Methos, "Can we talk about Derrick?"

"Why didn't you tell me about him at Phillip's? You had ample opportunity."

"Opportunity... yes... but I was otherwise pre-occupied and you weren't exactly 'Mr. Tell Me All About It' yourself!" Ellie snapped back at him.

Joe shook his head, "Notice Mac, even when they speak English, it still doesn't make much sense!"

Duncan saw Ellie's fingers flick back and forth in some sort of silent code. Methos' own fingers followed suit. Finally... they both seemed to reach an agreement. Duncan's eyes narrowed. He and Methos were definitely going to have a long talk soon.

"I think a beer's in order... join me guys," Methos replaced his sword in its scabbard and led the way to the kitchen at the back of the house. Joe and Duncan followed and Ellie brought up the rear. Once there, he threw two beers from the refrigerator to MacLeod and Dawson and a fresh bottled water to Ellie. Then he retrieved a beer for himself and sat down at the kitchen table with Mac and Joe. Ellie went over to sit on the counter, crossing her legs and sipping on the water... as if she were more an observer than a participant in what was to follow.

"Not a beer drinker..." Duncan asked her as he settled into one of the chairs.

Ellie smiled, "Not my beverage of choice... although I can put one away with the best of them when the need arises." She raised her bottle toward Methos and grinned, raising an eyebrow at some shared memory between the two of them.

"Ah yes..."Methos smirked, "Eleanor can drink most men under the table if she has her wits about her... most men... but not all." Then he chuckled.

"So who is this Derrick you three mentioned," Joe wanted to know. "The kidnapped kid?" When Mac nodded, he continued, "What's the big deal?" He wanted some answers! And he felt the immortals were taking entirely too long to come to the point.

Methos motioned to MacLeod to explain his thoughts about Derrick. Duncan mentioned the chess games the boy played, first with George Layton and later with Methos, himself... and the odd feeling he had at some of Derrick's comments... as if they were things Darius might have said. "Then there was Ellie saying he made her think of Darius," he motioned to Ellie who nodded and shrugged.

"I never saw him play chess... if I had... maybe I would have picked up on that. As it was, he knew my name... the name Darius used to call me... and sometimes, like MacLeod said... he just did things that reminded me of Darius. I really thought it was in my head. It never really occurred to me that it might be more than that... not until his email to me ended up on Phillip's web-page."

"Phillip's?" Methos sat up straighter. "How did he find that?"

"You got me... when he was younger he'd watch me on computer... but I never taught him much besides basic searching and email messaging. I didn't teach him the codes we use if that's what you're wondering... nor did I ever mention..." Ellie paused, as if considering her next words carefully, "... Phillip's place." She arched her eyebrows at Methos knowingly. "After I saw that message earlier... I knew we had to talk. Then you came in with your sword drawn and..." she smiled and shrugged. "I thought I'd see how much of my skill I'd actually gotten back in the last month."

"You looked pretty deadly to me," Duncan smirked, "right up until you did that little victory dance!" Suddenly he laughed aloud and snapped his fingers. "Phillipe Gerard... that's who you two are talking about! And you... you were his insufferable student! I knew I'd seen those moves before."

Ellie smirked, "And you were as Phillip later called you, 'a boor in immortal clothing!'"

"Is there any other time we met before that I don't remember?" Duncan threw up his hands in exasperation.

"No..." Ellie took a sip of her water, attempting to hide her amusement, "That about covers it."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this last month?"

"Would that have made you help me any sooner to rescue Derrick?" Ellie looked at him thoughtfully. When he shook his head, she continued, "I only told you the bare minimum, what you needed to know. Besides, as Phillip tried to teach you... only a fool announces his name to unknown immortals all the time. A habit I noted earlier that day that you still have."

"It's the honorable thing to do!" Duncan shifted in his chair, remembering the encounter with Phillipe Gerard and his student with a great deal of embarrassment. He had only recently left Connor to be on his own in 1634. He had just crossed over into France and had been exploring the countryside when he had happened upon the pair. He had not acquitted himself well... not well at all... in fact they had made rather a fool of him... actually. He looked at Methos. "And you were the immortal who stopped by but didn't come into the camp?"

Methos shrugged. "I seldom liked getting involved in Phillip's and Eleanor's little games with new immortals if I could avoid them... although there were a few... especially one in England..."

Ellie's face turned bright red... "No, Edward... not that one... not that one again..." She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"Excuse me..." Dawson spoke up, "I know I'm only the mortal here... but could we please stick to one topic for a while... I still want to know about this Derrick kid... call it professional curiosity. And unlike you people... I don't have a few centuries to wait around for a straight answer!"

MacLeod, Methos and Eleanor stared at Joe Dawson. He was right. They in their immortal sense of time... had lost the thread of the conversation. It had become entangled in shared memories, some of which ran off in all directions, and only tangentially had to do with what they were here to discuss.

"Sorry," MacLeod said.

"Force of habit," Eleanor shrugged.

Methos cleared his throat. "I guess that means I'm next." He took a swig of his beer and looked thoughtfully at it. Then set it down and leaned forward on his elbows. "This may not make a lot of sense... but then... it doesn't make sense to me... I don't have all the answers." He glanced up at Eleanor, when she nodded, he continued.

"Long ago I knew an Ancient immortal called Aja. Centuries later, I found a child who reminded me of Aja. A child who said things and did things that intrigued me. But once that child's immortality was triggered... the shock of it broke that connection... if there had ever been a connection. There were no more memories or half-memories... nothing to indicate that the child was anything more or less than any other immortal." He took another drink from his beer.

"While in the Watchers this last time, I began to search through their records, trying to see if that sort of thing had ever been reported before. I found maybe one other rather oblique reference... but nothing else. I stopped working on the problem years ago. There just didn't seem to be anything to it."

Duncan sat forward in his own chair, "And then you met Derrick..."

Methos nodded, "Darius and I used to play chess the way Derrick and I did yesterday." He shrugged, "I decided to revisit the research."

"But if he dies... he'll forget whatever he knows?" Dawson asked.

Methos shrugged, "Perhaps... perhaps not. The first question should be if this is at all possible and then why now? Why Derrick? And why does he think there's some danger?"

"So what now?" MacLeod wanted to know.

"Now," Methos picked up his beer and polished it off. "Now, we sleep on this. We're all tired. Time enough in the morning to make some decisions, once we've gotten some sleep. It's not as if we're facing a deadline of any sort is it?"

The others agreed. Joe stretched out the big couch on the main floor while the others headed up the stairs to bedrooms. Methos didn't have much in the way of guest facilities he was telling MacLeod... but there was a spare bed in one of the rooms he was free to use. Ellie headed back to the master bedroom and waited for Methos. They needed to talk... oh yes... they definitely needed to talk. She curled up in an easy chair by the window and waited for him. 


	15. 15

****

Chapter 15

Peter Taylor had taken three more heads by dawn. None of them had given him much satisfaction. That was the problem with preying on the young ones... it took so many of them to equal one really good quickening. Sometimes in the past, he had followed their memories back to their teachers... sometimes not. Tonight... he was just more interested in taking heads swiftly and without danger to himself... than any real satisfaction. With each one... he dreamed that it was Adams' head he was taking. 

He didn't care how good or how old the man was... all his research didn't point anywhere for the man. All Peter needed to know was that Adams did not fight much... he was pretty much a coward... and that he... Peter... could most likely take him in a fair fight. Problem was... and Taylor grinned... he didn't plan on it being a fair fight. He'd set up that three-car pile-up when he knew where Adams and his mortal friend were likely headed and how they'd probably travel. He'd paid a great deal of money for the information about that mausoleum of a house the man apparently was living in.

The last head Taylor had taken belonged to a former student of Daniel M'Benga. Peter had paused at that thought. M'Benga and Taylor had a healthy respect for one another. M'Benga was a powerful old immortal... almost eight hundred years old! He ran an impressive crime empire and in much the same way Taylor did his. To this date... they had pretty much stayed out of one another's way.

M'Benga though, Taylor thought, might be of assistance in this matter. Taylor knew M'Benga had as much hatred for MacLeod as Taylor had for Adams. Taylor wasn't the sort to work with any other immortal... but maybe this time... just maybe... he could chance it. True, it would lose him MacLeod's head... but he could live with that. Besides... MacLeod was, at present, too accomplished a fighter for Taylor unless he could take him after the Highlander had scored a quickening, which had been his initial plan.

Thoughtfully he started the car and drove to his hotel. He would have to take the time to think this through carefully... he doubted M'Benga would be cooperative unless Peter Taylor had all the facts and all the pieces lined up... and unless he footed the bill. That was okay if it got him Adams!

***

****

Seacouver

Derrick was unusually subdued at school. First he had barely slept... and second... he was worried. Somehow he just knew Ellie and Duncan were in trouble! He also knew there was nothing else he could do now.

Ellie had looked so much more like her old self when he had last seen her. She had whispered to him that she needed to go away for a while but that she would be watching after him and would stay in touch. He had agreed to stay behind... but only if she would write to him. He knew there were things she needed to do. He knew she needed to get her own strength back! She had used too much of it up in the time they had been together... especially after she had looked up one day to see Carerra leering at them. After that... she just hadn't been the same!

Derrick shook his head. His teacher was giving a pop quiz and he hadn't even heard the questions. Quickly he marked 'T's' and 'F's' down on the sheet of paper. Suddenly a pop quiz score in science didn't seem to count for very much at all.

During recess, he looked about for Duncan's friend Adam... but did not see him. But there was a woman sitting on the bench... a woman who did not catch the bus when it stopped. A blonde-haired woman wearing dark glasses who watched him on the playground. He did not sense anything about her, the way he had about the man with the binoculars on Saturday... but he peered over at her carefully. He wanted to be certain that if he saw her again... he would remember her. Once he had memorized her face... he tried to make himself concentrate on his classmates and their activities.

***

****

London

Joe couldn't sleep. Between the long flight... jet lag... the change in time zones... his interior sense of time felt all screwed up. He made his way from the main room back to the kitchen and rummaged around for some coffee. He waited patiently while the coffee brewed... Lee... how was it that he had thought that was her name...

***********

__

Hawaii, 1968

Joe looked up and down the empty deserted hallway of the hospital. There was no one on this corridor... it was 0100 and the office wing was utterly deserted. Joe motioned to Randall, another amputee, to take point. Randall had lost one arm... but he was still able to walk on his own. Joe had convinced the man that his help in this little mission would net him some big bucks and maybe a date with Joe's therapist... Jeannie. At least, it was worth a try. Matt Randall was more than happy to oblige!

Once to the records' office, Joe jimmied the lock while Randall kept his eyes peeled. "Stay here!" Joe whispered and let himself into the office. Earlier that day he had scoped the place out while down here to ask some inane question about his own file. He knew just where the employment records were kept.

Yesterday, he had purchased a huge bouquet of flowers for Jeannie, by way of apology... and one single white rose for the mysterious therapist down on the Quad ward... the one who had opened his eyes to his own self-centeredness. Jeannie had feigned ignorance of the other therapist's name... but Joe thought she did know and was just not saying. But... she had pushed the button for him to gain admittance to the Quad ward.

Inside it had been much as it had been the day before. Rock music blared and the men seemed to find great joy in their raucous comments and sly jokes directed at each other and their several therapists and the other medical personnel.

Joe wheeled to the center of the room and looked around. Suddenly he heard, "Hey guys... the amp is back!"

"Whoohoo amp... come to play poker!"

Joe had grinned and shrugged. Then he saw her... a sly smile playing over her mouth as she laughed silently and shook her head. Her dark hair... pulled back and clipped at the neck framed her round face. Her brown eyes sparkled. He maneuvered over to her.

"I... uh... I..." he was suddenly at a loss for words.

"Look L. E. the amp's brought flowers!" he heard from another direction.

She cocked one eye at him, finished up what she was doing, then walked to stand over him. He offered the rose to her, which she took in her left hand with an almost perceptible sense of embarrassment. From around them there was applause.

Joe cleared his throat. "I... uh... just wanted to apologize..."

"You should apologize to Jeannie... she's the one you hurt!" she said with that look of amusement. But she snapped the stem off the rose and placed the blossom behind her left ear in an almost automatic motion. Then she struck a pose and smiled as if in deep thought of something. She shook her head and then looked at Joe... her face once more showing amusement.

"Oh... I sent her a full bouquet... you... well this is just my way of saying thanks!" he grinned and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Then you are most welcome!" As she was turning away, Joe pressed his case.

"How about lunch with me, down at the cafeteria... part of the 'thank you.'"

She turned back and regarded him soberly, then chuckled, "Sorry... I don't date..."

"Patients?" Joe interrupted, "But technically I'm not your patient!" There was some agreement from those around them.

She looked toward the ceiling and her shoulders seemed to shake with amusement... then she leaned down to him... close enough that he could smell a scent like new mown grass or freshly laundered clothes hung on an outside line... "As I was about to say... I don't date younger men. Sorry!" Then she grinned and arched her eyebrows before turning away to resume therapy on one of the men.

She had been close enough for Joe to read her name-tag, "L. E. Edwards, P.T." "So what's the 'L.' for?" he called out to her.

One of the patients answered, "That's the real question around here isn't it? She lets us guess one name per day... only one. We've tried just about everything we can think of... and we haven't gotten it yet! If you have any guesses... tell me and I'll tell you if we've already guessed that one."

Joe looked at the man then at the therapist... he grinned broadly. He truly loved a challenge! Thoughtfully he'd turned to go, "I'll think about it and let you know guys!" As with the day before, she had followed him to the exit and pushed the button to allow him to leave and had watched him with amusement as the doors had closed.

Now, here he was rifling through the personnel files for L. E. Edwards. Once he had the file, he'd know what her name was. When he found it... there didn't seem to be anything unusual about the name on the file... Lenore... but it was her birthdate that brought a huge grin to his face. God... this was getting better and better! He pulled another record from another file and securing both of them in his chair... he and Randall made their way back to their own ward. He was ready for tomorrow... oh yes! He was more than ready!


	16. 16

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Chapter 16

London

The coffee was ready. Joe poured a cup, then made himself comfortable at the kitchen table. He sipped the hot beverage... scalding his tongue. It would have to cool a bit. Thoughtfully, he pulled his cell phone out and dialed the Watcher hotline. After a few questions... he ended the call. Tim was holding his own. If he and Mac hadn't found him so soon... he would have died. As it was... things looked pretty grim for the young watcher. Joe doubted Tim would ever be back on field duty.

Joe took another sip of the hot coffee...

**************

__

Hawaii 1968

Joe had rolled into the Quad ward the following day with an impish grin on his face. After a few ribald remarks back and forth with some of the patients there... he had looked around for Miss L. E. Edwards. At first, he did not see her. He settled in to wait... just spending time with the guys. He discovered that he actually felt better than he had felt since his injuries in 'Nam.

Finally, she entered, accompanying a patient being rolled on a gurney. She glanced at Joe with a quizzical expression. "What are you doing back here... can't get enough of these reprobates?"

"Actually..." he paused, "I wanted to show you something." He pulled her employment record out and handed it to her.

She took it, scanned it over and shrugged. "So?"

"I could tell them your name..." Joe arched his eyebrows as he said that. "Or..." He pulled out the other file.

"Or what?"

"Or you could go to dinner with me." He handed her the second file.

She glanced at it and then looked at him without a clue as to what he was referring to.

"Birthdates," he finally said. "Unless you lied about your birthdate on your employment record... I'm six months and three days older than you." He smiled triumphantly. "So... I'm not a younger man and you could go to dinner with me. Or I could just tell them what name is on your file."

She looked stunned and at a loss for words.

Around them there was laughter and men urging him to tell them her name while others roared for her to go to dinner.

"Fine!" she finally said holding the files close to her while she crossed her arms. "Lunch on Friday in the cafeteria as you requested... but your lips are sealed!"

"Sorry... no deal!" Joe grinned. "I had to do some reconnaisance to get the intel... Now the deal is dinner Friday night... at the Coconut Room."

"Excuse me?" Her brown eyes were huge. "Just how do we manage that!"

Joe grinned, "I've already checked it out. I can ride the V.A. van over and meet you there at 7:00. Made the reservations already." Once more laughter rang about them.

She looked up to the ceiling as though clearly at a loss for words. Her mouth opened and shut several times. She raised her hands then shook her head. "Fine... I'll meet you at 7:00 Friday night... at the Coconut Room."

"Promise?"

Her eyes seemed to almost cross in amusement, but she nodded. "I promise."

Joe looked over to the men, "Sorry guys... guess you'll have to get her name another way." Then he rolled over to the door.

As before, she followed him. But as she leaned over to push the button, he pulled out a two-foot dowel and pushed it himself. "Thanks... but I can manage..." He wheeled through the doors and then turned back to offer her a wave of triumph as the doors shut. He could still see the amusement on her face... amusement and interest. Ahh... he had her attention... he definitely had her attention.

*************

****

London

Behind him... Joe heard the soft patter of bare feet on the marble floor. Lee... no it was better to think of her as Mac's friend Ellie for now. She was no longer the woman he remembered. Ellie walked into the kitchen and over to the fridge. As she stood in the open door assessing what was in the huge side by side appliance... Joe noted the burgundy silk shirt that hung on her. He doubted she wore anything else. The shirt must have been something of Methos' she had pulled on.

"Beer... beer... and more beer..." she murmured as she shifted the bottles. Finally she found a bottle of water, and removed it, slamming the door shut on the refrigerator. She opened the bottle and drained it, then tossed it into the trash.

"I made some coffee" Joe offered.

"So I smelled..." she poured a cup of the steaming liquid then downed it. She shuddered a moment, then opened the pantry and began to rummage.

"Doesn't that burn?"

"Mmm... mmm.... it always does... but I heal." She pulled out a box of snack crackers and opened it. Withdrawing one, she scrunched her nose at the taste. "Stale..." She shrugged, then hopped up to sit on the counter next to the coffee maker while holding the box of crackers in her hands. She ate several more, shaking her head. "Why is it that man never has ready-to-eat food around this place." She poured and swiftly drank a second cup of coffee.

"Well he hasn't been here in a month at least..." Joe began, trying to defend Methos.

"But he never has stuff I can just open and eat! Of course... it has been a while... decades really... since I was last here." She shrugged and continued her snacking.

Joe sipped his own coffee, noting just how hot it still was. "So how long have you known Methos?" he finally asked.

"Methos?" She laughed, "Oh... only about one hundred years."

"I thought it was longer than that... you two seem to have some history together."

"Ohh... you mean how long have I known Edward? Much longer." She smiled mysteriously just as Lee had often smiled and evaded his questions about her background... her family... where she was from. 

Since getting to know MacLeod the last ten years... and listening to some of his evasions as well as Methos' own when they spoke to people who did not know of their immortality, Joe realized he should have known even then... maybe he had after she had vanished. On some level... perhaps he had... still he had never mentioned her... to any of the Watchers. After all... he'd had no proof... only questions. And he had never been certain he wanted the answers.

He had once scoured the Chronicles for any mention of Lee... but he'd never found her... or anyone else even remotely like her. Since Methos was a myth for most Watchers up until a few years ago... why not the _mynishka_... but Lee's eyes had been brown... he'd never guessed she'd been wearing tinted contacts. Now... it all made sense. He wondered just how old she was... what she knew of the beginnings of immortals... what she knew about the game... and just how she seemed able to avoid being described!

"What is it that you call him?"

She looked at him with confusion, "Oh... Ed-ward." she pronounced slowly in English. "I usually use the Gaelic form..." She shrugged and smiled.

Behind him, Joe heard Methos and MacLeod coming down to the first floor. His other questions would have to wait. They had other concerns and other plans to make. But Joe hoped he'd have another chance to get the answers to all those questions still swirling in his mind.


	17. 17

****

Chapter 17

Peter Taylor had waited until dawn to begin making telephone calls once more. He checked on the people he had back in the states. Martha Gaines was on the boy... John Meyers was on the old man. Both reported no unusual activities. They had names and backgrounds for him. The old man... George Layton was evidently a retired social worker and friend of MacLeod's. The boy... Derrick... last name unknown... was in foster care. Taylor smiled... of course he was... that would make sense. He hadn't been close enough to feel the boy on Saturday... but that kid may have felt him. He was definitely the one to watch.

His next set of calls was to his people in London. Evidently all four of the targets were still in the house. Surveillance was set to follow each of them as they left. They also reported some others hanging around who also seemed to be watching the place. Taylor gave orders to disable them if necessary. He didn't know who they were... but he wanted no further complications.

Lastly, he called a contact to set up a meeting in Geneva with Daniel M'Benga. He hoped the older one would speak with him. He knew he had to have everything in place.

"Patience!" he thought. If he planned correctly this time... he'd have his revenge. He'd show that Adams that he was not someone to ignore!

Finally satisfied with his plans... Taylor tried to catch a nap before his flight to Geneva. 

***

When Methos and MacLeod entered the kitchen... Ellie looked up and in that weird language of hers... began speaking pointedly to Methos. She gestured at the now empty cracker box... turning it upside down and shaking it. Then she tossed it across the kitchen and into the trash. Methos replied, throwing up his hands and pulling out a griddle and some pancake mix.

Then in English he said pointedly, "And put some clothes on!"

She looked down at what she was wearing and grinned impishly, "I AM dressed!... Oh well..." She hopped off the counter, flipped him a bird and left. Methos shook his head.

"MacLeod... don't ever make the mistake of trusting her or letting her inside your defenses... she can be quite deadly when she chooses to be."

"Yeah," Duncan nodded as he poured some of the coffee, "I did note that last time." He motioned to Joe, "Refill?" Joe shook his head.

"What's her story?" Joe asked Methos.

The immortal whipped up the batter with some water and began pouring it onto the hot griddle. "You'll have to ask her."

"I did!" Joe laughed, "She's about as open as you are."

Methos shrugged, but offered nothing further. Eleanor's story and past were not his to share. He had always made it a habit to be close-mouthed about living immortals... the dead ones were one thing to talk to Joe about... but the living ones... better to say as little as possible. Besides... he was more interested in Joe's and Eleanor's relationship. When he'd asked her last night... she had just shaken her head as if to say "_I really don't want to talk about that now_." When Eleanor didn't want to talk... she didn't. Besides... there had been other things to discuss... like Derrick and the whole truth about the past four years.

By this time, Eleanor had returned, once more in the gray stretch pants of last night and the black jog bra. Once more her weapons harness was attached... and loaded. She was pulling on his shirt that she had appropriated from his closet once more. She stuck her tongue out at him to make the point. Methos smirked back and shook his head. She was definitely getting her sense of humor and her balance back. He put the last of the pancakes on the platter.

When she sat down... Eleanor playfully grabbed the whole platter and said, "Thanks... aren't you guys eating anything?"

"Share..." Methos warned.

"Oh all right... I'm just trying to make up for the last few years. Once I started eating again... my metabolism revved up... " She forked several onto her plate, poured on the honey and chowed down with enthusiasm.

MacLeod and Dawson looked on with amusement... their own plates not nearly so full.

"So what's the plan for today?" Dawson finally asked.

Methos nodded thoughtfully, "You and MacLeod go back to the states... keep an eye on Derrick..." he regarded MacLeod solemnly and nodded to him. "I'll follow through on that research here. I'll stay in touch." He glanced over at Eleanor, downing another cup of hot coffee. She'd been drinking hot beverages that way for years... ever since the fire... as if she needed to so that she would remember just how bad that death had been. Methos shivered slightly, recalling how badly she had been hurt... and he hadn't even seen the worst of it. Even when Phillip had met her in La Havre... things had mostly healed... but the scars were years in fading. He should have known then that she had not yet entered the game. 

Without the power of a Quickening... she had merely existed... too much of her immortal strength had gone into just keeping her alive over the years and finally in healing her after the fire. Then... Kae Dhun had happened. What a mess that had been... and in many ways still was! For years he could still see the flashes of insanity in her eyes sometimes... just as once he had seen that same insanity in Aja's eyes. Aja and Kritis... whatever it was they had done had driven them both mad! And Eleanor had some of both of them!

But Eleanor was not Aja reborn. He was certain of that... and while she still seemed to hear Aja speak sometimes within her mind... she did not know and did not remember anything of Aja's past. To her... Aja was just the voice within her head that helped her to make decisions sometimes. But Derrick?

"What about you, Ellie?" Joe was asking. "Are you staying here or coming with us?"

"Neither... I have some things I need to do in Paris." She glanced over at Methos.

He gave her a questioning look.

"Just some things I couldn't take care of before now... things that might help answer some questions." She shrugged as if it was no great matter... but he read her perfectly. Darius had left something in Paris that they might need... and Methos thought he knew what that might be. Damn!


	18. 18

****

Chapter 18

After Eleanor had left for Paris, Duncan took Methos aside. "I want some answers..."

"I don't know that I have any..." Methos tried to evade, but Duncan persisted. Finally Methos glanced at Joe in the next room and lowered his voice. "I'll answer what I can..." he finally said but jerked his head in Joe's direction as if asking the Highlander to keep quiet about whatever he learned.

Duncan nodded. He, too, had noted something between Ellie and Joe. Right now... he didn't want to think about what that might have been. Joe wasn't saying much... and Ellie had said nothing. "Is she the one you were speaking of last night... a child like Derrick?"

Methos nodded. "Whatever she knew or might have known... was lost the day she became immortal. She still hears voices... but the ones she most hears now... are not ones you ever want to meet."

"Explain!" the pitch of Duncan's voice indicated that anything but the truth was not acceptable.

Methos nodded to his friend, "Let's just say she once absorbed the quickening of an ancient immortal... much as Darius did... but rather than becoming dedicated to ending the Game and being a peacemaker... she became rather blood-thirsty. It was over a century before she fully regained her sense of self... and even now... there are moments... When she loses control... no one... and I mean no one is safe in her presence."

"Not even Darius? asked MacLeod.

"Especially not Darius!" Methos nodded. "When I told her he was dead... part of her raged that she hadn't been the one... and part of her was consumed with self-destruction. If anything happens to this kid... Derrick... I fear she may finally be lost forever..."

"That's why you knew what to do for my Dark Quickening?" MacLeod murmured.

"Hers wasn't necessarily Dark... those are very rare... just over-powering. The immortal she killed was younger than me... but he had taken the heads of three immortals each of whom was older than I was... and one may have been older than the one Darius killed. Let's just say she was... overwhelmed!" Methos shrugged. "She can be quite charming... just watch your head... I'd hate to lose two friends."

Duncan nodded. He'd hate to lose a friend as well... their lives did not leave much room for friendship... and he had already lost too many. He called to Joe that they needed to leave. The Watcher looked up at him almost absently and nodded.

After MacLeod and Dawson left... Methos carefully surveyed the house. He wanted to be certain there were no recording devices or monitors anywhere. He wouldn't put it past the Watchers to have tried something. But if they had... it wasn't apparent. 

As he searched, Methos called the Watcher hot line about Tim Wyatt's condition. The operator on call gave out only the information that Tim was stable. Methos'd used an alias and the proper codes... he doubted she realized who he was. Question was... who had sliced Timothy Wyatt open and why? He'd tried to seem unconcerned about that... the others, especially Eleanor... had enough to deal with. But Wyatt's attacker might somehow be the same danger Derrick had tried to warn Eleanor of. If so... then whoever it was had followed Methos home from Seacouver and was after him. Methos did not like the feel of that scenario at all. It meant someone else was watching... someone he needed to discover! 

Meanwhile... he had to get into those files he had hidden... there was more there than he had led the others to believe... but he had abandoned collating the information once Darius had died and Eleanor had warned him out of her life. Perhaps if he hadn't agreed so easily... No he couldn't second-guess what he had done. To second guess his choices might have meant that he would never have known Alexa! And that was a possibility he did not want to face.

He made one additional phone call... then waited for a delivery. As he waited... he continued searching the house.

Finally satisfied that the house was completely safe and as secure as he could make it... and when he had accepted his delivery at the door... he noted the location of the two new and rather obvious Watchers outside... Then Methos went to the cellar and opened the hidden vault. He re-locked the door behind him and settled in to re-read the research he had once gathered in hope of figuring out what Aja had done to all of them... Phillip... Darius... Eleanor... even Derrick, perhaps... What game was she playing now? He had thought her long dead... but he had no proof... only suspicions. While he read... his fingers absently traced the forty-five symbols Aja had once made him learn... "_water... fire... earth... air.. .desire... knowledge... destruction... creation... life... death... rebirth... all are one... all are one..._"


	19. 19

****

Part Two

__

Roads

*******************************************

One way leads to diamonds,

one way leads to gold,

another leads you only

to everything you're told.

In your heart you wonder

which of these is true:

the road that leads to nowhere,

the road that leads to you.

__

~from "Pilgrim", lyrics by Roma Ryan

*******************************************

****

Chapter 19

Geneva, Switzerland

Daniel M'Benga had agreed to this meeting with Peter Taylor only reluctantly. He had little respect for the young immortal... but M'Benga had finally decided to see just what it was Taylor was offering. He listened only half interested until Taylor said two words: _Duncan MacLeod_. M'Benga's eyes widened slightly and the constant drumming on his desk with the fingers of his right hand was interrupted for only a slight moment before all was as before. But he knew Taylor had noted that bare pause. He knew Taylor was attempting to bribe him to become involved in this situation... and he was offering what he thought M'Benga wanted... the head and Quickening of the Highlander!

M'Benga stopped the drumming and, in a deliberate motion, laced his fingers together in front of him.

"Continue," he said evenly, hoping he was not giving away his amusement or his true intentions.

"All I want is the chance to get the immortal Adams. I will be willing to foot the entire bill... I just need you to help oversee my plan. And I will make a gift to you of MacLeod."

"You are willing to sink all you have earned into this endeavor? What did this Adams do to you?" M'Benga was fishing. He wanted to know more about this Adams... he did not think he had ever heard of this one.

"Among other things... he slights me... he refuses to fight me when I challenge him... I want to force his hand!" Taylor's voice was tinged with desperation. Not a good sign, thought M'Benga. Not a good sign at all.

"What makes you think I want Duncan MacLeod?"

"I've heard it from others... they say you have paid big money over the years to keep abreast of MacLeod and where he is and who his friends are. I also have information... which I am willing to share for free... and I promise not to take his head before you have that chance." Taylor nervously licked his lips. "He's watching over a boy... one I think may become one of us."

M'Benga's eyes narrowed. "One of us?" Suddenly this plan of Taylor's while raw and unformed had merit. The boy... if he were truly what Taylor said... and he were under MacLeod's protection... might be exactly the leverage and weapon he had long been searching for. "Tell me about this boy... all about him."

Peter Taylor leaned forward in the chair, now certain he had the older immortal's interest, and told him all he knew.

M'Benga no longer needed to feign interest... but his thoughts were far away...

**********

__

West Africa 1654

When his men had brought the pale-faced one into the village... M'Benga had grunted in pleasure. This one was like him! Immortal! He was now of two minds while his pale brother revived. Should he challenge him here and now... or should he wait and play with this one. He knew his teacher would have had him behead this one before he was fully recovered... but, M'Benga was, in spite of all his power as king of this tribe... lonely for his own kind. He decided to play honored host and extend every courtesy to his brother... if brother he agreed to be. After all... one should never be hasty. Who one day is an enemy may be the next day a friend... or the opposite. He sent his men away... and waited...

The stranger took that ragged breath that so marked them all. Then he looked over at M'Benga, who could see confusion and just a bit of terror in this one's eyes. He smiled and pointed to himself... "I am M'Benga chief of the K'Turu. You are under my protection."

The pale-faced one shook his head. He did not speak the civilized tongue evidently. He muttered in some barbaric language that made no sense. Then he spoke again... this time a bit haltingly in Arabic. M'Benga nodded... he did not think this one was one of the Arabs to the east, but M'Benga knew the tongue from his own travels... so he answered again stating his intent.

After repeating himself twice more... M'Benga gestured for the pale one to state his name.

"Dun' can mac' loud," the other said and pointed at himself. M'Benga laughed. What a strange hard name! It had none of the lilting melody of his own tongue. These barbarians were so harsh, not only in their tongue, but also in their culture. Ahh well... he would be generous! Once more he offered his welcome to his brother immortal.

Eventually... the two were able to make simple... if not truly adequate... conversation. The mac' loud was relieved to be among "friends." M'Benga had smiled... truly he must be young... if he were so gullible. Still... M'Benga felt charitable. He clapped for food and strong drink and slave women to attend this immortal. He felt benevolent! He was a powerful king in his own country... in his own village... he could afford to be benevolent. The gods would shower him with plenty for his charity toward the stranger.

All of that goodwill had evaporated over the weeks that had followed however. For one thing... M'Benga's slave women were entirely too entranced by the pale-skinned mac' loud. He seemed to have a most mesmerizing effect on the women. They giggled and laughed whenever he entered a room... and they no longer bowed to M'Benga with quite the same awe they once had.

He could have ignored that. It was when his youngest wife... the special one he had traded for and was keeping for himself and the long nights ahead had cast her eyes on the mac' loud and he upon her... for that, M'Benga had decided the stranger had to go! Since he had offered hospitality... he could not simply withdraw it and challenge the man... so he had bided his time until the mac' loud left on his own to return to the northern lands on the far side of the inland sea. He would keep an eye on him for the future.

As for Uldani. Well... she shrank from his embrace so he killed her and when she had still refused him, then he beheaded her for her measly power. He had hoped to keep her with him... train her... both as companion and bodyguard. Too bad... she had shown promise. But the mac' loud had ruined that. He would find a way to rob the mac' loud of a similar one someday... he could be a patient man. He was a king... he was an immortal... and he was very old!

**********

****

Geneva

Three hundred and fifty years was a long time to wait for revenge... especially against someone he barely knew. But he had often dreamed of the Highlander. M'Benga had always known, if he waited long enough and was patient enough... the gods would shower him with the opportunity. Now this measly Peter Taylor had brought him news he could actually use. A child immortal! Not yet one of us... one M'Benga could steal and train and teach to kill. Then he could send him to kill MacLeod... perfect! While the Highlander was mourning the death of his young friend at his own hands... M'Benga could take his head. All would play out on his timetable no matter what this young Taylor wanted. Daniel M'Benga smiled and his gold tooth glittered in the sunshine.


	20. 20

****

Chapter 20

Paris, France

Eleanor returned to Paris with an almost palpable apprehension. She had never known Paris without Darius. She had sworn never to return after learning of his death... she had never wanted to feel the nothing that would greet her at Darius' church. But here she was... and the emptiness was even greater than she could have imagined.

To top it off, she'd decided on the train into the capital of France that she had picked up a follower. Not an immortal and far too careless to be a Watcher... she had seen the young man on three different occasions since leaving Methos'. After the second time, she had doubled back and bumped him oh so accidentally in the crowd... then she'd lifted his wallet and papers... studied them... and when she saw him the third time... she had repeated the close encounter and returned everything to him. He seemed none the wiser.

She'd lose him soon... but for now... she was as adept at watching him as he was careless in his observations of her. If she confronted him... the next one might not be so obvious. Better to let him think she was the oblivious one.

His papers had told her nothing... but she felt certain he was a petty crook... possibly hired to keep an eye on her by...? She had no idea. That bothered her. She slouched into the seat and stuck her hands deeply into the pockets of the olive army issue jacket. The jacket, which concealed her weapons, her size... and her laptop. In the duffel bag were a couple of changes of clothes and some wigs and colored contacts. She'd hit one of the restrooms at the train station and then the lockers and _voila'_ she would be someone else entirely. Methos had taught her well about subterfuge and disguise. And she'd had almost twelve hundred years of practice! If need be... she smiled... she could even be a passable boy.

She shrugged and stretched muscles and tendons... just in case... as Phillip had long ago taught her. Ever vigilant... ever ready! If things weren't so serious, and had this been any other town... she might have enjoyed playing with this mortal. She heard a chuckle from Kae Dhun deep within her, but he made no moves and said nothing. If he behaved himself... maybe she would let him out for a while. The others seemed uncomfortable with that thought... but Eleanor knew the best way to keep Kae Dhun quiet was to let him have a little fun... just a little... and she would be in control! And thus satisfied, he would leave her in peace.

The train slowed to a stop. Eleanor picked up her duffel bag and left the train... making her way to the ladies room to change her clothes. Luckily it was a man who was following her... she considered letting him follow her a little longer... but she had things to do and places to go that she wanted no one to know about. Better to ditch this mortal now. She'd have a few hours, at least, before someone else might pick up her trail.

She decided on Elaine d'Langois for her identity once she had changed. The blonde wig and the blue contacts behind the sunglasses seemed appropriate for Elaine. She changed into jeans and a dark green turtleneck and pulled out the long fringed suede coat. Eleanor moved the short sword into the coat for ease of access. She kept the appropriate papers in the fringed and beaded bag and stuffed everything else into the backpack that had been inside the duffel. It was a tight fit... but without the suede coat... everything did fit. She pulled at the bangs and tousled the hair in the wig so it looked slightly mussed and natural. She'd switched from the hiking boots to the sneakers and pulled on the soft felt hat. Her knives rested comfortably on her back. Wearing two knives that way had been one of Nin's memories... and it had served her well on occasion. The Ancient had been extremely adept with two long knives.

She left the restroom, noting that her follower never gave her a second glance and deposited the backpack in the train locker and pocketed the key. She'd have to pick up a stash of currency at an exchange... but that should be no problem. Once to the doors... Eleanor hailed a cab and settled back into the seat. Step one was complete.

***

She ditched the cab near the Luxembourg Gardens and walked the rest of the way. Just as she entered the Rue St. Jacques, she was startled to feel a presence. Right where it had always been. For a moment... she faltered... then she took a deep breath and entered the church's gate. Around to the right she saw a basketball goal and two immortals playing a game of horse. One she did not know... the other she did. He looked up at her.

She shifted her weight to one side and crossed both her hands back and forth twice in a wave of acknowledgment. Liam Riley did a double take and then waved at his friend and trotted over to greet her.

"As I live and breathe... Eleanor... what brings you to Paris!"

"Just saying 'Good-bye'!" she smiled and gave him a brief hug. "Hello Liam... what are you doing here?"

""They assigned me here a few years ago... I figured it might be sign that I should carry on for our absent friend. Of course... I'm not the same kind of priest he was."

"No one could ever be... but it's nice to know the place is being looked after. He'd like that. Who's your friend?" she nodded at the tall dark and surly immortal watching the two of them intently.

"Oh... that's Nick Wolfe... he's fairly new... I try to help him sometimes make sense of it all." Liam shrugged. "Did you want to meet him?"

"No... I won't disturb your game... still it was nice to see you... I can find my way in..." she motioned toward the church... already figuring she'd have to come back tonight and do what needed to be done. "Are you staying here?" she asked as an afterthought.

"No... I've a place nearby. Actually I cover two churches in the area. Sometimes here... sometimes there. See you around." He waved to her and went back to his game.

Eleanor watched him a moment longer... then entered the church... at least she could get the key to the grove from its hiding place! Liam was a complication to her plans... but at least not a fatal one. This Wolfe character she wasn't so sure of. He had looked at her with a policeman's eyes. She'd had a feeling he was committing her face to memory. She wondered if the disguise would be enough to throw him off if she saw him again... At least Liam wouldn't let on that her appearance was unusual... he'd seldom seen her the same way twice. She doubted he knew what she really looked like.

In the small chapel to the right... she counted four blocks from the column and four from the floor and pushed. Another block shifted. She swiftly reached inside the small opening, grabbed the key and shut the block with a practiced move. Glancing about... she saw no one was watching. Eleanor smiled. Step two complete! She pocketed the key... lit a candle for Darius and left... taking a circuitous route about the district... a route that would bring her back to the covered passage and the iron gate and the hidden grove. With luck... Liam and his friend would never know she was nearby.


	21. 21

****

Chapter 21

The grove was as always... a hidden gem of emerald green beneath the canopy of trees and the gray shadow of the three-story walls that surrounded it. Eleanor waited near the gate to be certain she was welcome here. After Niebos... she had felt that she would be... as long as she controlled the ones within... she could be safe here.

The earth murmured welcome and was silent. She let out the long breath she did not realize she had been holding.

She slowly walked over to the bubbling spring and smiled at the water playing over the stones. How often they had sat here... how often they had talked of the implications of this place... how often in later years they had argued. No... Eleanor focused her thoughts on the early years...

***********

__

Paris 1171

"So why hide this marvel from them?" Eleanor shook her head in confusion. Behind her she felt the familiar swaying of her long braid.

Darius smiled and spread his hands, "If too many people knew... what would happen to this place?"

Eleanor thought for a moment. "They would kill one another to possess this land... whoever was in power would determine who received the water and who would not. You've already said the water does not heal so much as ease the passage of the dying... they," she gestured at the mortals about them, "would never understand. This place would be destroyed." She looked over at the priest and shook her head, "But why does it exist? How did you find it?"

"It was here when I came." Darius shrugged and continued, "The Ancient One was its guardian. He used the water here to help the people he served. When I took his quickening... I took his knowledge of the spring. It was older than he was... he did not know why it existed... only that it did so. This grove was Holy Ground long before he came here." Darius glanced over at the stone masons working on the walls. "In time they will die... no one will know what is here... except us... Stay and help me here."

Eleanor looked about her at the walls going up. The masons thought they were working on something for the new church going up nearby. Darius planned to remain at that new church. From there... he would oversee the care of the mortals in this area... and perhaps try to bring peace to their own kind. She shook her head... it all seemed too much.

"What kind of priest are you?" she finally asked him. For the last few years, she had worked beside him at the hospital and let him teach her about listening to and truly helping the mortals around her. She attended his services to listen to his sermons... she herself had no real religious feeling any longer. Holy Ground still felt like a trap to her. 

"I was here before the modern church came. He, the Ancient, was here before Christianity was. Truth and morality do not change, Eleanor. Service to others does not change. Only the rules by which we serve and the trappings change with the years," Darius replied softly. "We make our choices and we live by them. My choice is to remain here... what choice will you make for your life?"

Eleanor looked up at the pale blue sky above and took a deep breath. She wasn't certain what to say. She had planned on leaving soon. There was still much of the world she wanted to see. So many places still to go. Things she wanted to do. Lives she wanted to live.

"Stay... at least until the cathedral is completed," Darius said, slipping up closely behind her. "See something through to its conclusion... instead of running off the first chance you get. Stay and help me... stay and learn... What is out there that you truly want..." he gestured toward the horizon. "What can you find out there that you cannot find here?"

Eleanor smiled. He was right. What was out there in the world? What would no longer be there in a hundred years when Notre Dame was finally finished? A century for an immortal was little more than a single lifetime. Her friends had wanted her to see the cathedral being built! Even the voice of the Lady had wanted her here. Why not stay?

She met his gaze, "All right... but just until the cathedral is finished. I really don't think I'm the type who can stay in one place for very long."

Darius had nodded his agreement with a gentle smile. "Perhaps in time... you will come to see that remaining here... in making a difference in just this one place... may someday change all our lives!"

**********

He had never wavered from that belief. No matter how things changed over the years... Darius had believed in a future where all immortals could co-exist. In time... Eleanor had begun to accept that belief... a belief that not even the darkness of Kae Dhun had ever completely erased... Nothing had... not until Darius had died. Then the future he had dreamed of had come crashing down. She shuddered. _No!_ She would not retreat into grief again. Darius would not want that. She would do what she could to ensure the future he had hoped for... if it were at all possible. 

She squared her shoulders... step three was to secure everything and step four was to take the research to Methos. She felt that he might be the one to finally put it all together. And then there was Derrick to consider. If he was Reborn... if something of Darius was in him... there was one true test! She hesitated. Better to secure the church and pack the research first. There was time enough for the other later.

She sat on the stones and let the water play over her hands. Darkness would come soon... and with the dark... she could move ahead with her plans.

***

Just after midnight, Eleanor slipped over to the darkened church. There was no sense of Liam or any other immortal in the area. And she was not being observed by anyone. She had made very certain of that!

Within the church, she walked to the altar and pushed the stone mechanism that opened the crypt. While she doubted Darius had left anything down there... she wanted to be certain. The crypt was the most likely secret to be found.

As she made her way down the stone stairs... she pulled out her Maglite and played it around the room. Nothing here, not even an old keg of mead. She checked into all the corners to be certain. Eleanor broke the stools and the shelf into pieces of wood and tossed the one candle stub into her bag. She sorted through the pile of rags for signs of anything that would betray them. Then from under the stairs... she pulled out the stone chocks that would secure all the openings. They had never used them... they had never needed to. But with Darius gone... it was best to lock everything down.

Eleanor re-climbed the stairs and pocketed the Maglite. She hit the mechanism on the altar and slipped the chock into the groove. She heard the satisfying crunch of stone as the chock was locked in. She waited a few seconds, then pushed the stone once more. Nothing happened. Eleanor smiled! One down... three to go!

Next she walked over to the door to Darius' old cell. This was locked... but a simple modern lock would not deter her. Quickly she picked it and entered, re-locking the door behind her. She waited while her eyes became accustomed to the dark. She hesitated to use the Maglite as the light might be seen through the window.

Liam was evidently using this place as both office and storage. In one area were a desk and some files. A small fridge with a coffee machine on top of it was against one wall. He'd also brought in a comfortable easy chair, a floor lamp and two hard chairs that sat before the desk. None of this was Darius'. The rest of the cell was filled with boxes and file cabinets and broken furniture... extra church chairs... even Christmas decorations. For a moment Eleanor wondered what had happened to Darius' belongings... perhaps MacLeod knew. They were of little importance, though. The important belongings were elsewhere.

Once she had her bearings, she slipped between the stacks of chairs until she reached the wall. She had only to slightly move a few things to allow access to what she sought. Once she could reach it... she pulled the loose stone out... reached in and felt for the iron ring. Once in her grasp... she pulled with all her strength.

With an "_umph_" a portion of the wall popped back ever so slightly. Only a very small or a very thin person could fit through this opening, so slight it was. She replaced the loose stone and slipped through the opening.

Once through, she set the second chock into the iron ring, which was now open to her and pulled. The doorway closed... and the chock was locked into place. Even if someone were to pull the stone out and find the ring... nothing would happen... not from that side. She nodded with a smile... that's two.

It was now safe to turn the Maglite on again. She let it play over the small aperture and smelled the dampness. Darius' pathway to the sewers of Paris lay before her. All she had to do now was enter the sewer and secure the last entrance. She let the light play over the down-slope and walked along the path to the lower cave. Here she made one final check about her to be certain that nothing of any consequence remained, not even his change of clothes or his lantern... Then with only a single glance at the cave writing of the Ancient that they had never been able to translate... she slipped out into the sewer and secured the final lock!

Satisfied that everything at the church was safe... she crossed under the street until she reached the stairs that led to the grove... she climbed and opened the hidden door which she locked with the last chock! Now, the only way into the grove... was through the iron gate... and she had the only key! Step three was complete!

Satisfied, she climbed the stairs to the pair of rooms she had lived in for so long. She unlocked the door to the main room and flipped on the light. But what she saw made her freeze in disbelief.


	22. 22

****

Chapter 22

Seacouver

Duncan had wanted to take Joe on home after they landed, but the Watcher wanted to go to the bar. He needed to check on things there before going home.

Joe had said little on the return flight and Duncan had not wanted to push. But as he watched his friend sort through receipts and mail at the bar and count the money, Duncan finally voiced his concern.

"You know, Joe, if you talk about it... it might make it easier."

"Nothin' to talk about Mac... nothin' happened... nothin'."

"Something happened... tell me."

Joe sighed and shook his head. Then he pulled a bottle of scotch from the bar and poured two drinks. He passed one to MacLeod. "She was a therapist at the V. A. hospital I was in right after 'Nam. I thought maybe we had something... guess I was wrong... she was just an immortal playing games." He downed his own drink. "I always wondered why I could never find out anything about her... now I find out everything I did know... or thought I knew was a lie."

He pulled a book from beneath the bar and tossed it to MacLeod. "Ever here of Charles Baudelaire?" he asked.

MacLeod thumbed through the book, "Sure, nineteenth century French romantic poet. "**_Les Fleur de Mal_**"... **_The Flowers of Evil_**... was his masterpiece."

"Yeah... but there are references to immortals or living forever and swords scattered throughout his poetry if you know where to look. _And_..." Joe paused, emphasizing the word; "he had three mistresses. One was an actress, another a wealthy patron and the third... the third has never been identified... but she had green eyes. Baudelaire dedicated a number of poems to her."

"You think it was Ellie?"

"Look at the frontpiece..." when MacLeod did so... Joe continued, "Lee... Ellie... gave me that book. The lines, are from a poem not in this edition... but were found in a poem supposedly written to the wealthy patron... Mme. Sabatier in 1854."

"You're reaching Joe!"

"Am I... I wonder! And she sure as hell knows Methos _very _well. Hell she could be as old as he is!"

"I doubt it."

Joe regarded him evenly, "What makes you say that?"

"Things she said last month... and Methos said something to me about meeting her when she was a child."

"That could still be five thousand years ago! The legend of the _mynishka_ is older than Methos!" Joe's shoulders slumped and his weariness was apparent.

"C'mon Joe... you're tired... I'm taking you home." Duncan laid a hand on his friend's arm and smiled. Joe nodded... he was tired... but he doubted he'd sleep much. And even if he did... he wasn't certain the dreams would be very restful.

**********

__

Hawaii 1968

Everything was going as planned for the big "date." Everything, that is, until Joe was led to the table which bordered the dance floor. Seeing couples dancing suddenly reminded him of what he had lost and what he would never again be able to do. Even once he got prostheses, he somehow doubted he'd ever be able to dance again. Even walking was likely going to be a problem.

He sat there glowering at the couples... oblivious to everything else. It was a surprise when he glanced up to see L. E. Edwards being seated across from him by the _maitre'd_.

"Wondered when you'd notice I'd arrived." she grinned. God she looked great. Her dark hair was piled atop her head and she was wearing a black silk spaghetti strapped sheath... short and tight and leaving little to the imagination. A matching cape was about her shoulders. She gracefully shrugged it off and laid her black beaded clutch on the table.

"Wow!" Joe smiled... letting his mood and depression lighten. She'd really cleaned up good. She even had makeup on.

"The dress isn't mine... it's Jeannie's," she said be way of apology. "I don't usually own anything like this."

"You should... and your hair..."

"Also Jeannie's idea... and the makeup..." she lifted one shoulder and batted those brown eyes of hers. "I'm afraid I'm pretty much as you saw me before... this is all pretense."

The waiter arrived to take their order. She ordered in flawless French with barely a glance at the menu and Joe felt a little out of his league. His own high school French was only barely adequate.

"So... should I call you L. E. like the guys on the ward or shall I call you Lenore..." Joe finally offered.

"Whatever... but if you call me Lenore... the guys will hear of it and I'll have to find something else to pique their interest and distract them. L. E. is fine." She leaned her elbows on the table and placed her chin delicately in her hands.

"What about Lee... L. E. E. ... that's your initials... and if I start to say Lenore... it might make me stop."

She shrugged with a grin then sat back and placed her napkin in her lap, "Lee it is..." She took a sip of the white wine he had ordered earlier and smiled warmly.

"So... you speak French?" Joe tried to make conversation.

"On occasion."

"Ever been there?"

"When I was younger."

"Family?"

"All dead."

"Are you gonna open up and tell me anything?"

Lee chuckled and shrugged.

Joe smiled, "_So..._" he thought, "_she's making a game of this._" He leaned over and picked up his wine for a toast. "To new friends and new lives!"

She nodded and returned the gesture. Once again... she seemed amused and just a bit teasing.

"Where're you from?" Joe finally asked, hoping he'd get a straight answer.

"Oh... I've lived lots of places..." she shrugged, "Wherever I'm at becomes home." Once again he saw her grin at him.

"I took French in high school as well as a little Latin... the nuns insisted on the Latin."

She shook with laughter... "Oh the benefits of a Catholic education."

"You, too, huh?" Joe pushed.

She took another sip of the wine and laughed, "Something like that... Actually Latin was one of the first languages I ever learned." But she offered nothing more.

After another silence, Joe started a new topic, still fishing for information, "What kind of music do you like?"

"Jazz... the Blues actually."

"Which artists?" Joe's excitement about finding a topic they might actually have in common bled through. "I like B. B. King."

"Hmmm... I was always fond of Billie Holiday." She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. Her eyes glittered with excitement as she began to list some of the artists and numbers she liked. Joe grinned and began adding his own favorites.

Lee winked at him and teased, "I kinda thought you were a rock and roll fan."

"That too... rock is actually an extension of the blues." And he was off again discussing his theories.

She nodded in agreement, making comments where appropriate.

Joe continued, "Hey... you really do know this stuff... and here I thought you were in to the classics... like opera!" he teased.

"_Pffbbtt_! Hate opera... everyone dies at the end... nobody is ever happy!"

"But the blues is like that..." he countered.

Lee shook her head sadly, "No Joseph... the blues is about longing and the desire for things we can never have. The artists who really understand that... they are the ones who get it right."

Joe grinned once more and nodded, "Then you're a true _aficionado_! Wish I had my guitar with me."

At that point, they were interrupted by the waiter serving their salad. They began to eat, conversation forgotten. Later, during the main course, the band began to play again and several couples got up to dance. Joe stared once more at the dance floor... feeling depressed.

"Joseph..."

He looked at her.

She delicately laid her fork down and leaned forward, "Ask me to dance."

Joe glared at her, "That's not funny!"

"It's not meant to be... trust me... ask me to dance."

He hesitated. He saw no pity... no teasing... no amusement in her eyes... only warmth.

"Ask me to dance," she said again.

He nodded, "Dance with me?"

She dropped the napkin on the table, "I thought you'd never ask." She stood up and came around behind him, grasping the chair to wheel him onto the dance floor. Then she draped herself into his lap.

"You lead!" she grinned as she put her arms about his neck.

And he did. He wheeled back and forth and in circles to the music and they laughed. When the music ended, several couples applauded. She raised her eyebrows in mock amusement and whispered in his ear, "All things are possible Joseph... if you but believe in yourself!"

Later back at the table, he had pulled her close when the restaurant photographer had snapped their photo. It was great of him... but she had turned her head just as it was snapped... so that her face was a blur. He'd bought it for her anyway. After dinner, when the van arrived to pick him up... she'd walked out to the sidewalk and said, "Goodnight... and thank you for a lovely evening!" She'd leaned down to kiss him briefly and then she had backed out of the way as he was loaded into the van and waved as it drove off. It had seemed like the beginning of what might be a special relationship.

**********

****

Seacouver

He'd believed that all these years, that "all things were possible". When the Watchers had tried to restrict his duties to research and historian... he'd fought for field duty. He'd pushed the envelope time and again... never letting anything or anybody stop him if it was something he wanted. 

He'd wanted to know MacLeod... once the immortal had found him... he'd wanted to know Methos... once the old immortal had approached him about keeping mum on his identity. He'd wanted all the things in his life... and he'd had no regrets... but now... was it all a lie? Was he the butt of some immortal joke? Merely a hanger-on... tolerated but never quite accepted. The lone mortal among immortals! 

Maybe it was time he retired... Watching was not an old man's game... and he was old... and Lee... Ellie... was still young and beautiful and evidently involved with Methos. Joe had never felt quite so alone!


	23. 23

****

Chapter 23

Paris

In the harsh glare of the overhead light... Eleanor's eyes played over the barren room. Everything was gone! The shelves were empty of books and scrolls. The artifacts no longer sat on the furniture surfaces. Darius' journal in which he had written all his thoughts concerning the items around him was no longer on the table!

"Damn!" Eleanor pulled off the hat and wig and tossed them onto the floor. She turned about the room in disbelief. Then she pulled off the sunglasses and threw them into a corner. Lastly, she shrugged off the suede coat and let it drop at her feet.

"_Where was everything! What the hell had he done with it after she had left?_" She had only been gone a few months when she'd learned he had died... had someone else taken it all? No... Darius must have given it all to someone... but who? This had been his life... this had always been the most important thing to him! Why was it not here?

Eleanor moved swiftly about the room, letting her hands play over all the surfaces. She felt atop and below the shelves... the table... the chair seats. She opened the small refrigerator... unplugged and empty. Nothing! She checked the small stove... again, nothing. Nothing in the cabinet... nothing on the counter. Nothing! She collapsed on the floor and beat the back of her head against a wall. "_What now? What now?_"

**********

__

Paris 1630

Eleanor's eyes snapped open. In the slight awakening from sleep, she was aware of the nearness of an immortal. _Darius?_ She thought he'd left hours ago. Why was he still here? She climbed out of the narrow bed and pulled her shawl about her. Gingerly she opened the door to the main room.

There he was bent over something at the table... he was working in the glow of candlelight.

Eleanor shook her head... she brought him these things from her travels... but she didn't understand the glee with which he studied them. She threw one side of the shawl over her shoulder and sat down in the other chair.

She drew her legs up beneath her nightdress and made herself as small as possible. He barely glanced at her.

"It's nearly dawn... what are you still doing over here... I thought you'd left hours ago." She finally said.

"I did... then something occurred to me and I came back... Here... do you see it?" he pointed at something on the drawings she'd made of cave paintings in Africa.

Eleanor shrugged... she'd copied them... she had no idea what they meant. Sometimes she just saw things and thought "_This would interest Darius!_" and she would copy it or buy it for him and bring it back.

Darius next pointed at words on a Chinese scroll... "And here... Do you see the resemblance?"

Once more she shrugged and shook her head. When she heard languages... she began to understand them, but reading them was frequently beyond her.

He sat back dejectedly. "Perhaps I've been at this too long." He looked out the window at the gray dawn and rubbed his eyes. "I rather think I'd better get back." He smiled wanly at her.

She grinned impishly. "Well... maybe you could send a message over that the _marchioness_ is sick and requires your presence?" She had risen then and walked back into her room, dropping the shawl behind her slightly as she did so and tossing her head. Behind her... Darius began to laugh and shake his head. "Oh Eleanor... the things you say... the things you do..."

**********

He would have left her a message! Eleanor was certain of it... just in case!

She rose and crossed the room to the door to "_her_" room and opened it. All was as it had always been. The narrow bed still had linens... musty now she was certain. The wooden shelf was devoid of books, but there was still a candle there. The hard chair still remained by the curtained window. Beside the bed was the chest in which she had kept her clothes.

Thoughtfully she opened it. It should be empty... but it wasn't. On the bottom were two old _Mardi Gras_ masks. Her half-face gypsy mask still festooned with faded feathers. She lifted it out and placed it for a moment before her face then dropped it on the floor. The other was his plain "Fre're Jacques" mask...she picked it up and something fell to the bottom of the now empty chest. She reached in and grasping the runestone, turned it over thoughtfully in her hand... automatically reading it... "student."

Typical... he leaves her a clue... but what student? He'd had so many! She doubted it was MacLeod to whom he'd entrusted the research... MacLeod didn't seem to know anything about it. Who then?

Across the street she could hear the bell toll for morning services. She narrowed her eyes... perhaps she should pay another call on Liam Riley! Eleanor tossed the stone into the air... caught it on the way down and pushed it into her jeans pocket. At least it was a place to start.


	24. 24

****

Chapter 24

Liam Riley was straightening up after services and had planned to leave shortly after when he glanced up to see Eleanor enter the old church. He shook his head.

He'd met her about a century ago when he had come to Paris to study with Darius. One immortal priest to learn from another. She was something! Liam had never been quite certain what to make of her... but she had seemed essentially harmless. In fact... there were times she reminded him a bit of Amanda. A strange combination of imp and saint! One day she was a healer... the next she could just as easily lift a man's wallet or crack his head open if he looked at her wrong.

Darius had never said much about her... but he had always seemed to regard the girl with amusement... as if she were a child sorely in need of guidance. Other than that one time back about 1929... Liam shook his head. He'd never known exactly what had happened... only that Darius had seemed very unhappy for several years after that... like someone who has lost a long-fought battle.

Then in the 1960's she had started popping in and out again... and lighting up Paris with her infectious smile and lilting laugh.

He grinned, "Eleanor... twice in two days... now I know you're up to something!"

She looked around and then sauntered up to him. "We need to talk."

"Immortal to immortal or friend to friend?"

"How about priest to confessee?"

Liam narrowed his eyes, "That only works if you believe... and I don't think you do."

She shrugged. "Then friend to friend... but you say nothing to anyone?" She arched her eyebrows.

Liam laughed. "Agreed! Now what's up."

She handed him the runestone. He glanced at it and looked at her with a shrug, "One of Darius'? It means student... but what else?"

"I was wondering if he gave you anything to hold for me before he died."

Liam shook his head, "Not me... maybe Duncan MacLeod. He was here in Paris at the time. He found the body... you did know that... right?"

Eleanor nodded. "I don't think he left anything with MacLeod." She reached for the stone and he dropped it back in her hand.

"Sorry I can't help... I wasn't really in on much of what he had going on. I do know he was trying to spy on Grayson's organization... but then MacLeod killed Grayson and came to Paris. I stayed away after that... I had my own duties to take care of. I never heard of any of the others being around at about that time."

Eleanor's shoulders sagged. She was obviously disappointed. Liam tentatively laid a hand on her arm. "I wish I could help... if there's anything else I can do..." his voice trailed off.

"Actually..." Eleanor grinned as if she had suddenly made up her mind about something and pulled out an old iron key. "Keep this for me until I return or send someone to get it." She handed it to him.

"What's it to?"

"A place I know..." she bit her lower lip. "Don't ask questions Liam... though... if you hear I'm dead... and no one comes for that..." she nodded at the key, "feel free to find the lock it fits and what lies behind the door." She smiled. "Until then... just hold onto it for me. I could show you where I always keep it... if you'd like." She smiled bewitchingly. Liam nodded.

After she showed him the stone and pushed it and had him place the key within, he looked about the old church quizzically, "Why do I think there are a few more places like that about."

She grinned, "Well... feel free to check." Then she gave him a warm smile while she re-donned sunglasses over those now blue eyes and left. She skipped a bit as she made her way out. The fringe on that suede coat swayed back and forth almost hypnotically. At the door, she glanced back at him and even from this distance... he could see her grin.

Liam chuckled and glanced around him at the church. He had always felt something was going on here and that there were secrets that Darius had kept. Now... he had at least a clue that he was right. He shook his head laughing aloud and wondered just where to begin searching.

****

***

Seacouver

The blues was a part of him. Joe fingered the notes on his guitar and every note seemed to quaver with more feeling and more meaning than usual. Perhaps it did. He had asked to play with the band tonight... and they'd agreed... it was after all _his_ bar... but even they looked a bit askance at the emotion he put into the numbers. He wasn't going through motions... he was expressing his feelings.

The number ended and he smiled and nodded at the round of applause. He glanced up at Mario... "Takin' five." He set the guitar down as he grasped his cane to pull himself up. Amid continued applause and backslaps he walked through the crowd and over to the bar.

MacLeod sat there with a bemused expression. "You're in fine form tonight," he murmured as he took a sip of his drink.

Joe sat down on one of the barstools. "Yeah... I am... ain't I!" He leaned back and motioned to Mike the bartender to pour him a beer. "How's the kid?" he asked.

"Seems fine. I called his foster parents and they hadn't seemed to notice anything. When I talked to him... he seemed fine... asking about maybe seeing me this weekend."

"Did he ask about Ellie?"

"No." Duncan took another sip. "He didn't seem to be tuned in to anything. Of course... his parents were standing right there... and it was over the phone."

"Next step?" Joe asked thoughtfully.

"I'll run by the school tomorrow and take a look around. Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to him during recess."

"What do you need me to do."

" Just go about normally... but keep your eyes peeled... I don't know who sliced Tim Wyatt's throat open... but I don't want you to be the next Watcher that goes down."

Joe opened his jacket slightly. Duncan saw the gun. "Got my friend with me," Joe said. "Not to worry Mac... even Mike's here. We're all on alert and keeping our eyes peeled. We're staying in groups of two or more. If any of us sees anything... I'll let you know. We Watchers don't like being used as targets!" He smiled.

Duncan nodded. "I remember..." Just then a patron came over to talk to Joe about his playing. So Duncan took the opportunity to nod "goodnight." He wanted to drive over to the Commons' house and see if Betty and Ron were also being watched. He had had an uneasy feeling all the way back to Seacouver that someone was also on their tail... but he'd not noticed anyone or anything out of the ordinary. Still... keeping Derrick safe seemed to be the main priority.

Even if the kid was not anything special... even if what he and Ellie and Methos were seeing in the boy was just coincidence... he wanted to make certain nothing happened to the kid. Derrick should be allowed to grow up. And if there were something there... he wanted to give time for Methos and Ellie to figure out a way to unlock the boy's memories... if there were any to unlock.

Duncan MacLeod slipped out into the darkness and pulled the collar of his long leather jacket up slightly. There was a chill in the air... and a bit of fog was starting to form. Well... no one would notice him in the fog.


	25. 25

****

Chapter 25

Alsace-Lorraine

The convent of _Ste. Genevieve_ was nestled in a quiet valley among some vineyards. Eleanor smiled. It had been decades since she had been here... but this was another of those places that never seemed to change... no matter how long it had been.

She entered through the gate to the main courtyard and nodded at one of the sisters. She explained whom she was here to see if possible... that she was a cousin... that she had family news... the sister smiled knowingly and went to get Mother Marie-France.

Eleanor wandered about the courtyard, noting the small school that had let out for the afternoon. Already she could sense the children. She smiled and walked back toward the convent house. She wasn't here to see the children... not this time.

Marie-France greeted her warmly from the stairs and came forward with a hug. "_Eleanor... ma cher! Bonjour_! What a delightful surprise! What brings you to see me?"

"Ahh... _ma cher_... business... only business."

"Not fair... you should come for a retreat... we could practice our moves and you could tell me tales."

"But I do not tell them well..." Eleanor pouted. "Everyone says so." She laughed then at the ease with which she and Marie-France fell into old patterns of speech and conversation. The nun had left the outer world centuries ago... she was as firmly ensconced in this place as Darius had been in Paris... but for other reasons.

Eleanor and Darius had never fully been able to dissuade the young woman that her miraculous recovery after falling from the heights of Notre Dame in 1232, while it was still under construction, was other than a miracle sent by God! Marie-France was a product of her time... her faith knew no bounds. Thus... they had helped her find a place to live in safety... at least as much safety as was possible. She was still artistic... among her sketches were many of various immortals she had met over the centuries. Like Eleanor... she had little real interest in the game.

"If someone comes for me... so be it..." she had often shrugged, "I have already had more time than most because of God's gracious mercy!"

The nun waved at the children. "Here comes Valeraine!" She winked at Eleanor and chuckled.

The little girl trotted over and placed her hands on her hips and stamped one foot impatiently. "Marie-Charles... have you seen Sir Edmund? Why does he not come? He promised! Tell him I am still waiting!"

Eleanor threw up her hands in mock denial and shrugged as if she could do nothing.

Valeraine tossed her blonde braids and stomped off.

Marie-France leaned in closely to her friend and whispered in amusement, "Nothing like an eight hundred-year-old eight year old!"

"Does she give you any problems."

"Occasionally she reminds me she is somewhat older than I am and that it is only because I died as an adult that she is not in charge! And she still thinks Edmund will come for her."

"He was a fool to tell her that... but I suppose it was all he could think of at the time to get her to remain here."

The two women linked arms and Marie-France led her friend into the small flower and herb garden that was the nun's personal pride and pleasure... "So just why are you here?"

"Did Darius send you anything for me before he died?" Eleanor knew no other way to get to this. She needed to know and if the research wasn't here... she needed to search elsewhere and in a hurry.

Marie-France shook her head. "We wrote, of course, I still have some letters... I could get them... they contained nothing of interest to you."

"If you don't mind... there might be something there."

Marie-France nodded and led Eleanor into her office. She withdrew a small key and unlocked a box. Then she handed Eleanor a packet of letters. "I know I should have burned them... but after he died... I wanted to keep them... just so I could pretend I was getting a new letter occasionally."

Eleanor nodded. She had already burned the ones she'd had. But she had committed them all to memory. Carefully she opened the letters and settled in to read. Soon she had to agree. Marie-France was right... there was nothing of importance there. Then in the last one she read a postscript "Matthias has been to see me... he says he may stop by soon to see you as well."

"Did Matthias come?"

"Yes..." Marie-France shook her head sadly. "It was he who told me of our old friend's death. He was greatly saddened. Kept going on and on about some task Darius had given him. Of course three years later I heard that he, too, was dead."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes, "He didn't happen to say what it was?"

"No... just that it would turn our world upside down!"

There was a knock at the door. Both immortals looked up at the immortal presence asking admission.

The door opened slowly and a blonde immortal child who looked to be approximately ten years old stood with his hand on the door. "Just checking on your visitor..." His eyes traveled over Eleanor suspiciously as if trying to recall her from somewhere.

Neither woman spoke. The boy glared at them both and then nodded and closed the door. They both let out a deep breath.

"What made you take that one in... he's dangerous!" Eleanor said to her friend.

"You know this is a safe haven for all the lambs. I keep an eye on him. Kenny likes to hide out here occasionally... and he knows... that if he wants to come back... he'd better behave. I'll not have him hunting children if they wander off the grounds. All the lambs have been warned about him though. Trust Valeraine to take care of that. And I, of course, have my own defenses." She smiled and arched her eyebrows knowingly.

Eleanor laughed. Then thought once more about the dead Matthias. Not only was he dead... but so was the one who had killed him... and the one who had killed his killer... and that led her back once more to Duncan MacLeod. If Matthias had known anything... it was likely long lost! She shook her head... Dead-end! Damn!

"I need to go now..." she smiled tiredly at Marie-France. "Be careful _ma cher_... there are so few of us left anymore."

Marie-France returned the smile. "I am always careful... but my fate is in God's hands! My life is His!"

***

Eleanor took the channel ferry back to England the next day. There did not seem to be much sense in pursuing this any further. And she had to get what she did have to Methos and to safety.


	26. 26

****

Chapter 26

London

Methos had spent the last several days inside the vault. He had air... beer... the occasional snack... facilities... and nothing to interrupt him. Still... there was nothing more here than he had thought. Just oblique references and questionable records of immortals who "might" have been something more than what they were. He had no more answers than when he began.

He stretched and filed the last of the papers away. He tossed the last empty beer bottle into the trashcan and picked it up to empty it upstairs. He unlocked the vault and exited, being certain to scramble the tumblers when he left to prevent anyone from easy access. Then he locked the outer door and closed up the hidden entrance. He'd spent time on this system... he had several safeguards built in. As he made his way up the cellar stairs to the first floor... he heard whispered voices.

Methos quietly set the trashcan down and drew his sword. He tiptoed up the remaining stairs, listening...

"I tell you he's got to still be here... I been watchin' careful," said one voice.

"Then where is he... he's gotten away from us and you know it might mean our heads if the boss learns we lost him."

By this time Methos had reached the doorway to the kitchen. He slowly pushed the door open and glared at the two men who jumped slightly and looked at each other nervously. Then they saw his sword and their eyes widened fearfully. Methos felt a nearby presence and smiled.

"Evening gentlemen... is there something I can do for you? Offer you a beer perhaps... maybe cash... silver... my head..."

By this time, Eleanor had finished slipping up behind them and quickly slammed their heads together. The two men fell like crumpled dolls to the floor. Eleanor shrugged and smiled. He thought he saw the barest flash of green in her eyes... but it quickly faded.

"Letting Kae Dhun out to play?" Methos asked.

"It'll keep him quiet for a while... hello love... did you miss me?"

Methos re-sheathed his sword, "How did they get in here?"

"Don't know... saw 'em after I came in through the roof and followed them down here. Glad you were here... who are they?"

"I saw them outside a few days ago... I thought they were Watchers. He leaned down to rifle through their pockets as did Eleanor.

"Now this is interesting." She held up a business card with a telephone number. Methos found the same on his man. "A man following me in France had one of these... same number."

Methos looked at both of them. There was no name on them... just a cell phone number. "Want to bet they had something to do with Tim Wyatt's attack... or know who did?"

"I think you'd win that bet!" She grinned impishly, "Shall we give them to the Watchers?"

Methos grinned... "I have some rope that will work. But let's keep these..." He flicked the cards and put them in his pocket.

Soon both men were bound and gagged. He threw the smaller man over his shoulder and dragged the other one behind him outside. "Wait here... there's no reason for them to know you are here."

Eleanor gave him a mock salute and settled back into one of the kitchen chairs with a bottle of water.

There were two Watchers outside in a car. They looked a little non-plussed when Methos tossed the two strangers at them. "Here... they managed to get in... caught them of course... think they may have information about why Tim was attacked." He gave them his best smirk, then turned to go back inside... pleased they had seemed surprised! That most likely meant they hadn't noticed Eleanor's entrance.

He slammed and locked the door and re-set the alarm codes. It might very well be time to move! And he hated moving! He headed back to the kitchen.

Eleanor tossed him a beer as he entered. He started to twist the cap off... then held it away from him. She grinned as the beer spewed out. He upended the bottle and drank deeply as she laughed.

"So how was Paris?" Methos settled into an adjoining chair and stretched out his lanky form.

"Empty..." she regarded him evenly. "But you knew that."

Methos shrugged... "Whatever do you mean?"

Eleanor looked up at the ceiling for a long moment and then gazed deeply into his eyes, "Darius' research... where is it?"

Methos hesitated. _Darius' research?_ _What research?_ "What was he working on?"

Eleanor's mouth dropped open, then she settled back into the chair and shook her head. "You really don't know... I thought he might have told you... I always thought he should have talked to you about some of it."

Methos leaned toward her. "I repeat... what research?"

She took a deep breath and blew it out, "I don't know... not really... you remember how I used to copy things down from ruins and buy books and tapestries and things...?"

"I remember..."

"They were for him... I just saw things and bought them or traced them or drew them for him... he was studying them. He kept trying to get everything to make sense. And I kept trying to tell him he needed to leave Paris and go see all this for himself... that if he saw these things as they truly were... maybe he'd get the answers he was searching for." She shrugged, "None of it ever made any sense to me. You know I can't read most languages... speak them yes... but read them!"

"Darius never mentioned doing any research to me... I know he was trying to learn more about Grayson's operation. But I was in Watchers by that time and was keeping a low profile. I didn't think visiting him at the church was too smart on my part. They knew me... or at least they knew Adam Pierson!"

"Well... the research is gone. He left me this..." Eleanor tossed him the runestone. Methos glanced at it. "I was never his student..." he said. "What made you think I might have had it?"

"I didn't. But I tried the several I knew that were still in France and all anyone said seems to lead back to MacLeod and I don't think he has it. Or if he does... he doesn't know it."

Methos stared thoughtfully at the runestone... "Maybe he meant one of your students?"

Eleanor laughed, "Like Phillip, I never really took a student."

"However... some might be so considered..." Methos suggested, tossing the runestone back to her.

"Other parts of the world... and how would Darius have contacted them... he didn't know them. I doubt he knew most of their names, even."

Just then the front doorbell chimed.

Methos and Eleanor glanced up and smiled.

"Watcher!" they both chuckled.

Eleanor tossed her water bottle into the trash. "I'll be upstairs." She had vanished, along with her duffle bag by the time Methos cracked open the front door.

"Uhh... sir... thank you... we've got them in custody... should we let you know..." Methos slammed the door in the man's face and re-set the codes. _Gods... he hated this!_ It was definitely time to move! Methos was tired of being the immortal on point! He wanted his privacy back! He crossed the foyer... extinguishing the last of the interior first floor lights and climbed the stairs two at a time after Eleanor.

She was in the master bedroom at the rear of the house. She had not turned on any lights to be safe... but had pulled the heavy drapes across the windows. She smiled coyly as he flipped on the lights.

He reached for her with passion and she responded... her tongue and his doing gymnastics against one another. She hopped and clasped her short legs about his waist and practically gnawed at his ears. He responded in kind... carrying her over to the bed and falling with her on to it. For once... he'd gotten there before she could disrobe so he had the pleasure of removing her clothes as she had likewise ripped at his... it definitely had been too long for both of them. He groaned in desire as she responded with seductive moves against him. This wouldn't take long... but they had the whole night to do it over and over again. Just to be certain they got it right!


	27. 27

****

Chapter 27

It was the smell of hot coffee that awakened Eleanor the next day. She stretched seductively and with great satisfaction on the bed and grinned at Methos. He stood there absolutely nude... with a rose between his teeth and a tray of breakfast.

"Breakfast for m'lady," he said through clenched teeth and then spat the rose at her. She laughed hysterically and reached up to take the tray. He kissed her... one of those oh so long and deep kisses that she loved so much.

"Wow... food and kisses... what a combo!"

"And don't forget that bloody rose..." he grumbled as he sat beside her on the bed. She laughed and picked it up, absently breaking off the stem and placing it behind her left ear. She struck a pose. He grinned. Methos thought he still had that oil painting of her with that bloody rose somewhere! It was probably locked in the vault.

Eleanor poured a cup of coffee and quickly downed it; then poured another... he clasped her hand... "Slowly Eleanor... slowly." She crossed her eyes at him but sipped. Then she checked under the dome, squealing at the omelet and toast and fresh cut fruit."

"You bought food... real food!"

"I had some things delivered while you were gone... just in case you came back."

"Thank you," she murmured as she began stuffing her mouth. Then she motioned to see if he wanted part of it, but he declined. It was good to see her eating again... she had barely touched anything when he'd seen her at Phillip's. And here... that morning after MacLeod and Dawson had shown up... she'd eaten the pancakes... but it had been more hunger than delight.

"_Dawson!_" Methos recalled she had not wanted to speak of the Watcher... and she had been extremely reticent that night. She'd curled up in a chair with a blanket after they had talked... and he'd left her there. He had gone to bed alone, hoping she would relent and join him... but she hadn't. It had been a surprise when he'd seen her downstairs that next morning... wearing only his shirt. He hadn't a clue what that had been about. He knew Eleanor and Phillip had a bad habit of playing with young immortals and even sometimes with mortals... but dammit! MacLeod and Dawson were his friends!

Absently he picked up a slice of toast and took a bite. He tried again, "I think it's time you told me what happened in Hawaii?"

She took another bite of the eggs thoughtfully and then smiled that sad little smile she used sometimes... the wistful one when she talked about children and other things she'd never had... never would have.

"Nothing to tell... we had one date... he was..." she shook her head, "If you know him you know how when he gets something in his mind. He pursues it to the exclusion of anything else."

Methos nodded knowingly, "Yes... I know... rather like someone else I could mention."

She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. "He was charming and interesting and..." she sighed, "and so very endearing. I actually began to wonder what it would be like to love a mortal... really love one... not just go through the motions... and lead a normal life." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "You know... house... white picket fence... neighbors to talk to over the fence... Sunday dinner..." she looked at him and laughed. "Sorry... I guess I had that once... or almost once." She smiled at him wistfully. "Most people don't get a second chance... at least _we_ did... even if it was never the same."

Methos nodded. "So what else happened?"

She sobered and took a deep breath... letting it out slowly, "Carerra happened. I knew Joseph about four months. I was there when he got his prostheses. He'd begged me to come over from the ward where I worked to see him take those first steps... so I was there. That was just about Christmas of 1968. After he began walking a bit... he'd come down to the solarium where I took my breaks and we'd read Baudelaire."

Methos laughed.

"No... _not_ those poems!" She picked up a pillow and hit him with it. "Although I once thought about it."

"I'm surprised you shared that with him... you were very fond of that poet as I recall."

"I was his muse... his inspiration!" Eleanor struck another pose and then laughed. The laughter passed and she sobered once more. "We were reading one when I felt an immortal very near. One who stood in the doorway and stared at me. I looked up and it was Carerra. He focused on me and then his eyes widened and he knew who I was! I quickly handed the Baudelaire to Joseph, excused myself and Carerra and I went to the chapel."

"Holy ground!" Methos murmured.

"Closest one... we talked. He threatened to start killing people in the hospital if I didn't do whatever he wanted." She shrugged, "I pulled him out of there... stabbed him and left. I did think about taking his head... but we were in the hospital and I thought the quickening might cause some problems. I waited for him to recover from outside the hospital and led him a merry chase away from there... away from Hawaii until I killed him again. Then, when he recovered that time, I told him to find a life... and leave me alone. Then I killed him a third time... this time removing two fingers from his sword hand." Eleanor absently ran her fingers through her short dark hair, "I didn't hear any more from him for over a decade... I thought he'd finally gotten the message. But... as I was to learn... he never did." She was quiet for a long time. Then she shivered slightly.

"As I told you... I felt like I needed to give him the chance to move on with his life. I thought he had... but he kept coming back! You were right about that... you were right about so many things." She shook her head, "When he grabbed Derrick I just lost it... I couldn't think... I couldn't plan... I just ran to MacLeod. Darius had once told me he thought I could trust MacLeod," she smiled at Methos. "So I did. At least enough... just to get Derrick back." She picked up the coffee cup and downed the hot liquid, shuddering as she did so. "Which brings us back to why I'm here..."

She climbed off the bed and crouched by her duffel... she unzipped it and pulled out the great sword. "Here... thought you might want this." She threw it at him.

Methos caught the great sword handily and stared into the gleaming white metal... forged in a time before he was born and stronger than any sword he'd even seen. The sword seemed to glow almost red in the morning light and whisper of its thirst for blood. It had been a long time since he'd seen it... much less held it. He tossed it onto the bed and shook his head. "I don't want that thing!"

"Of course you do... you always did... and Aja always meant for you to have it."

He looked at her sharply, "How do you know..."

She shrugged, "Call it one of the things I learned when I used it..." She climbed back onto the bed. "It wasn't just Kae Dhun and the others that I got... it was all of it... all the way back... I saw every quickening ever released by its stroke... I could see what Kritis and Aja did with that thing once the killing began... There were times I saw through the eyes of everyone who ever used it... D'jan... Kritis... Aja... Darius... you... Kae Dhun. It was a whirlwind in my mind that made no sense. If it was like that for all of you... I wonder that anyone could remain sane in the face of its onslaught. It drove their father mad... it drove them mad... it drove me mad. Only you and Darius ever wielded it without that fear... without consequence. Over him it had no power... and with you... " she shrugged, "it just belonged."

"I'm not that man any more... I don't want that kind of power!"

"I know my love. So what do we do now? Where do we put this thing... Who gets to hold it for the next thousand years? Who should be the guardian? O ro'dred is long dead. Darius is dead."

Methos took a deep breath, "I can put it in the vault, along with Aja's crystal."

"Fine by me... but this is not a sword that likes to just be put away. You know that. It will prey on your mind no matter where you are. I know... I've had to deal with it for almost two hundred years. And for most of that time I was a bloody mess. At least... it's yours again... I give it to you freely."

Methos nodded. He'd put the damned thing in the vault and leave it there. He'd have to. There was just no place in the modern world for a warrior king. He'd always wanted to decide his own destiny... even as a child... and ruling the world had never been a part of his own plans. Even when he'd been one of the horsemen... it hadn't been about ruling... it had just been about having fun and going along with it all to survive. Good thing he hadn't had that thing then... who was to say how he might have ended up. It was only after he'd left the horsemen that he had first seen it. He nodded thoughtfully... "and then there's Derrick to consider." He glanced at Eleanor. She smiled.

If something of Darius was in the boy... the sword would have no power over him. It never had. But Derrick was a ten-year old kid. Somehow, giving him the great sword to hold didn't make a great deal of sense... then Methos recalled what Eleanor had said on Niebos... Darius was a boy when Aja gave him the sword to hold. He glanced up at her... suddenly he was seeing through to what they needed to do... He met Eleanor's smiling eyes. She'd known it too... she had just wanted his agreement on this. He reached for her once more and she melted into his arms, kissing him passionately. Both breakfast tray and sword went flying off the bed as he made love to her once more. This time, they were in no hurry and the caresses and moves consumed them both.


	28. 28

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Chapter 28

Seacouver

Duncan made small talk over the meal and told Betty Commons just how good everything was... how much he... a bachelor... appreciated a home-cooked meal.

Derrick's foster mother blushed brightly beneath her red hair, "Thank you... Do you have room for dessert?"

Duncan leaned back in his chair, "Bring it on."

"Could we have it in the den, Betty?" Derrick asked innocently. "I want to play some chess with Duncan if that's okay?" He glanced at both Ron and Betty who nodded.

"Maybe I can help you clean up and serve dessert." Ron tossed his napkin on the table with a smile. Behind it, though, he was curious as to why this man kept popping in to check on Derrick... as if they... Betty and he... were somehow inadequate to the task. George Layton had told him that Duncan just felt paternal... after all... he'd had something to do with rescuing the boy from off the streets. Still... if he was so interested... why hadn't he taken the boy in. But Ron liked Derrick... he seemed one of the good ones. He and Betty had known some that were so damaged by their experiences that they never moved beyond them... they were never able to function as mature adults when they'd grown up. He rose to accompany his wife into the kitchen.

Duncan eyed Derrick warily. The boy had neither said nor done anything all evening to indicate he was anything more than a ten-year-old enjoying an evening with foster parents and his un-official "Big Brother!" He hadn't even asked about Ellie.

Derrick grinned and motioned to Duncan to follow him into the den where he'd already set up the chess set Ron had bought him. He was teaching Ron to play... and the man had seemed to enjoy being the learner. Of course, Derrick was only teaching him basic chess... not the other.

"You can be white!" he said to Duncan as both settled on either side of the board set on an ottoman before the fire. He moved a pawn and waited.

Duncan returned the move and watched as Derrick glanced at the kitchen... fingering another piece a moment before leaning over the board to whisper, "Have you seen Ellie?"

Duncan nodded.

Derrick glanced once more toward the kitchen, then returned his gaze to Duncan. "Is she okay?"

Once more Duncan nodded and smiled.

Derrick sat back and let out a slow breath. He continued to finger the pawn... then he finally moved it and let it go.

Duncan looked the board over slowly. This definitely didn't look like any chess prodigy's opening... it looked like some beginner just making moves. He moved a knight, and stared thoughtfully at the boy, meeting his gaze evenly.

Derrick shifted his bishop out. Then he whispered once more... "There's a lady been watching me... at school... she was even at the grocery today when Betty and I went..."

Duncan nodded, "I know... I've been watching her."

Derrick nodded thoughtfully, then brightened up as Betty and Ron came in from the kitchen with dessert and coffee. Once more... he was only a little boy, eager for a slice of chocolate cake and a cup of hot chocolate. The boy reached for dessert saying thanks and dug in, the chess game forgotten for the moment.

An hour later... Duncan said goodnight and left. He noted the presence of an old sedan parked across the street and decided he'd played nice long enough. He walked over to the car and went into a routine about having stepped in something.

A woman got out of the car to wave him off... and he slammed her against the side. "Suppose we have a talk about why you're here..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" she mumbled, still struggling.

"Oh I think you know exactly what I mean... I've seen you watching the boy now for several days. Tell me... who hired you... what's this about."

"I swear," she babbled, "I don't know anything. I was just told to keep an eye on him."

"Who hired you?" Duncan slammed her against the car once more... not happy to be man-handling a woman... but not wanting to take any chances.

"Look mister... I don't know... a friend asked me to watch the boy for a few days while he was out of town..."

"And your friend has a name...?" Duncan put all the menace he could muster into his words. He was tired of this.

"Peter Taylor!" she finally spat at him.

Duncan began rifling through her pockets and came up with a business card with a cell number. He let her go and pulled out his phone... punching in the number.

"Speak to me..." he heard on the other end.

"Peter Taylor."

There was a pause... "Who is this?"

"Name's Duncan MacLeod..."

Once more there was a long pause. "Right... someone's been careless. Look Highlander... I'm not after you... it's your friend I'm interested in... goes by the name of Adams."

MacLeod started... then switched the phone to the other ear while motioning to the woman to leave. She took the opportunity to climb into her sedan and drive off.

"You sliced open Wyatt's throat in London."

"Was that his name? He was Adams' friend... I wanted Adams to fight me... he keeps running away."

"Maybe he has his reasons."

"Not good enough... tell him I want him. Anytime... anywhere!" There was a tone on the other end. The connection was broken. Duncan punched the number in again... this time listening to an out of service message.

He'd never heard of Peter Taylor... but he knew someone who likely knew who the man was... Duncan climbed into his T-bird and headed for _Joe's_.

***

"You sure he said Peter Taylor?" asked Joe as he was punching things into the Watcher database. They were in his office at the rear of the bar. Outside, in the main room... Duncan could hear the band playing and the sounds of the patrons.

"It's what he said." Duncan leaned over Joe's shoulder to read what popped up on the screen.

"He appeared a little over a hundred years ago. Let's see... he was a student of Hidalgo Montoya. Yeah... when Montoya lost to Martin Kreamer... Taylor was there. He took Kreamer's head before the quickening settled. Seems to be what he does... generally he hunts for young ones... or waits for others to fight it out and then takes the victor's head... not a real sporting guy. Petty crook who likes to think he's big time." Joe shrugged. "Why's he after Methos."

"I don't think he knows who he is. American southwest one hundred years ago." Duncan nodded thoughtfully... "wasn't Methos in that area then... using the name Ben Adams?"

"Yeah... though we don't have much and there's nothing to show they ever crossed paths... but we don't get everything."

"Methos was out of the game since about 1795 he once told me... probably flying under everyone's radar. Check things out. Do some cross-referencing."

"We could just call him..." Joe gestured with his hands.

"We will... but see what you can find out first."

"And you say this Taylor was the one who got Tim Wyatt."

"He admitted it."

"Damn... then we want him too." Joe turned back to the screen and began doing some checking through additional files. He'd have to call the council with this... but it couldn't hurt to do some of the work himself. He hadn't cared for the database when the Watchers had decided to set it up with some additional safeguards after the Kalas affair... but it did make things easier... you just had to have the right codes. And they were long and involved passwords. Only a few senior members had them all... and he was one of them. Age and seniority did have their rewards.


	29. 29

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Chapter 29

London

Eleanor was curled into a ball inside of Methos' arms. He smiled. She so seldom did that any more... as if it reminded her too much of the life they had once had... the one they had lost so long ago. When they'd have their trysts... she was usually up immediately and joking about... almost as if she feared ever to let him come too close again. Afraid that one day they'd have to kill one another as he had once warned her. She sighed and he leaned down and kissed her nose. She laughed and opened her eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.

"Ohhh... just thinking about home... our old home... up north..." She stretched, but went nowhere, seemingly content.

"So what do we do about Derrick?"

"Well... we could take him away to some hidden place and all live happily ever after... but that's not very realistic is it." She curled up again.

He absently traced the pattern for water on her shoulder. She smiled. "No it's not..." he agreed, "especially in fifteen or twenty years... you know what we'd likely have to do..."

"Yeah... what you couldn't do to me... what Aja couldn't do to you... I let him go because I knew it was for the best... now it seems even that isn't good enough. I guess I have to somehow see this through to the end... no matter where it leads... no matter what it costs."

He kissed the top of her head. Then his cell phone rang. Methos reached for it... noting that Eleanor sat up and laid her head on her clasped upraised knees sadly. She was already pulling away... rebuilding the walls between them.

It was MacLeod. "Yeah Mac... what's up?"

"Ever hear of an immortal named Peter Taylor?"

Methos thought for a moment then shook his head, "Not that I recall... why?"

"He's the one who attacked Tim Wyatt... he says he's after you... calls you Adams."

Methos tried to focus on the various times he'd used Adams as an alias. "Any idea when or where I might have run across this Taylor?"

"How about American southwest... 1880's or '90's. Ring any bells."

Methos tried to remember every immortal he'd run into or had dealings with... but nothing came to mind. "Has Joe a picture on the database?"

"Yeah... early twenties... nothing remarkable. He was a student of Hidalgo Montoya."

Again Methos shook his head; this wasn't making any sense at all. "Montoya I've heard of... but I had no dealings with him."

"Well this guy wants you really badly... says you refused to meet his challenge."

"I've refused lots of challenges MacLeod... if one fights too often... the chances for survival go way down! I like to keep the odds in my favor!"

"So you've said! Is Ellie back from Paris yet?"

Methos glanced at Eleanor and grinned. "Yes... just got back... why?"

"Put her on."

Methos handed Eleanor the phone... "MacLeod want to talk to you."

Eleanor shrugged but took the phone, "Is Derrick all right?"

"He's fine... he's worried about you. He says he keeps sensing some danger."

"Tell him I'll be there soon if you get the chance."

"Right... hey wait... Joe's got a question..."

"Ellie..." Joe Dawson's voice on the other end of the line caused Eleanor to bite her lip.

"Hello Joseph..." she managed to say brightly.

"When you get here... when this is over... we need to talk... you and me."

"Sure Joe..."

"Promise me you won't disappear before we get that talk."

"I promise..." Eleanor handed the phone to Methos and climbed swiftly out of the bed. She began to rummage roughly in her duffel for some clothes.

"We'll see you soon Joe." Methos said quietly and hung up. He watched Eleanor a moment and then said, "Try and keep that promise... he's my friend... please, Eleanor... whatever you just promised him... try."

She met his gaze with a weak smile, but nodded, "I'll try... I really will." She gathered some clothes into her arms and headed for the shower. Over her shoulder she said, "You make the arrangements while I clean up... I think I'll be Evelyn Trenton... your mousy cousin this time."

Methos chuckled as he punched in the number for the airlines. She hated the Evelyn "Evie" Trenton moniker he'd hung on her once when Don and Christine Salzer had happened to see them at a Paris restaurant. At least she'd behaved herself... although she'd kicked him pretty hard under the table when he'd called her "Evie". Well... the Watchers may know about "Evie" so that was perhaps the safest. "Hello... I need two tickets for the states..."


	30. 30

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Chapter 30

London

Peter Taylor was furious! First his man on the female immortal had lost her in Paris and had had no luck finding her. Then, the two men he'd kept on Adams' house in London had just vanished. Now, at least one of the people he'd hired to keep an eye on MacLeod's and Adams' friends in Seacouver had been compromised... or possibly the man on MacLeod himself.

"Damn!" He grabbed his coat and sword and headed out into the fog to hunt. This was not going according to plan... and if he expected M'Benga's continued support... it had all better get back on plan. Not far from his hotel... a thought occurred to him.

Taylor ducked into an alleyway and dialed his cell phone. He barked orders into the phone and then shut it off. New plan... he smiled. Hit Adams where it hurt. The mortals... they were the weak link. He'd hit the mortals. He headed back into the fog... still in a hunting mood... but this time... he thought he'd look up that teacher he'd gotten a line on the other day. Maybe he needed a real challenge for a change.

****

New York

Daniel M'Benga landed in New York and went immediately to his hotel. He wanted to be in the states and allow time between the identity he'd used to come into the country and the one he'd use to travel to Seacouver and MacLeod. This country was so paranoid right now... it was getting extremely difficult to get into easily. But better this than flying into Mexico or Canada and then having to cross the border. He was here... he was holed up in a five star hotel... he could relax.

Most of all... he could just as easily direct things from here as from Geneva. He'd ordered his people to forward any calls from Taylor directly to him as if he were only in the next room... not the other side of the world. The less Taylor knew... the more easily M'Benga could work his own plan.

Let Taylor run around using his people and calling attention to himself... by the time anyone realized that it was he... Daniel M'Benga... they had to worry about... it would be too late... he would have already struck.

Room service arrived. M'Benga tipped the waiter handsomely and watched him leave. Then he settled in to his dinner. On the hotel room's sound system... he listened to opera... _Aida_ he thought... yes... _Aida_. Always one of his favorites!

** **

Alsace-Lorraine

Kenny had had enough of "kiddie-land." Besides, the ones here were all too wary of him and kept him at arms' length. The one he wanted... Marie-France, that simpering nun, was all too careful around him. He'd had no luck arranging for her to take a small trip off Holy Ground! And that Valeraine! She watched him with dangerous eyes. That one was no innocent little girl! For all her small size, the little girl was like him... she knew what it was like to hunt... she knew the power of the quickening... she knew how to use that innocent face as a mask to get what she wanted.

Kenny dropped out of the window and trotted across the grounds to the convent gate... opened it and left. Perhaps he'd look up an old friend... he smiled. No... not yet... he was more interested in Marie-France's friend. None of the other lambs had known her except Valeraine, and she wasn't talking. Still... perhaps he could track her.

Paris was the likely place to start. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed immortal who looked like something out of the 1960's or '70's. He'd start in Paris... and see what he could find out. Besides, he was ready for something besides "lamb." But he had learned some new fighting techniques and moves at the school. That was what always kept him coming back. The others like him tended to pool their knowledge. If outside mortals came in... there they were... studying history. But as soon as the mortals left... the desks were pushed back and the martial arts classes began again in earnest. It was just too bad none of them had left while he was there. He would have enjoyed the surprised look on their faces when he came for them.

***

Inside, Valeraine watched Kenny leave. She would need to warn Marie-France. She at least would know how to reach Marie-Charles. Valeraine ground her teeth at the thought of that one! She seemed such an idiot. Valeraine had been the best student Sir Edmund had ever had! He'd said so! When he had first told her to remain here... that had been centuries ago. Usually he would stop by... take her out for a jaunt and let her hunt... he'd always wanted to be certain she knew how... then he'd bring her back here.

Once Marie-France came to stay... and Edmund had seen her with Marie-Charles... he'd seemingly lost interest in Valeraine. His visits were more and more infrequent. She had never seen the two together other than that one time... but she suspected so much. Valeraine pouted as she stared into the mirror. She couldn't help what she was physically... but she had tried to become a scholar and a charming intellectual over the centuries... just for Sir Edmund. She thought maybe one day he'd come for her and never bring her back to this place. Inside... she was a very old woman! Inside she was not a child! No matter what she looked like.

Valeraine opened her door and sauntered down to Marie-France's room... the nun needed to know that Kenny had left... and that she needed to warn the others. They'd all be on lock-down for a while. No matter... it was for the best. She was eldest here... she should be the one in charge... and in her own mind... she was.

****

Paris

Nick Wolfe took a drink from his beer and glanced around to finally see Liam Riley enter _Sanctuary_. He was late and Nick would tell him so.

"Where you been? Game time's in an hour, we'll have to eat at the stadium!" He'd developed a passion for European football and had been pleasantly surprised to learn Liam liked it as well. The priest seldom went... not really wanting to be in a big crowd like that with so many unforeseen eventualities... but if Nick was going... Liam loved to go along.

"I had some things to do... at the church." Liam shrugged. "Sorry..."

"You've been pretty consumed with the church since... what was her name stopped by..." Nick fished as he took another sip of his beer.

Liam smiled, "Just an old friend... trust me Nick... she's not a concern for you... leave her be."

"But you're not telling me her name."

"Believe me... you don't need to know... you'll likely never see her again... and if you do... watch your head." Liam ordered a beer from the waitress passing by.

"Then she is dangerous."

"Oh... most of us can be dangerous... some of us choose not to be. As for ..." Liam paused and smiled, "as for her... let's just say she has a good heart but that she sometimes reacts violently if pushed." He absently rubbed one of his hands in memory of a certain bone-crushing move she'd put on him once. Eleanor had apologized profusely, and Liam knew she'd meant no real hurt by it... but he'd always felt there was far more to her than anything he'd ever seen. And he couldn't tell Nick he'd spent the day pushing stones in the twelfth century church. So far... he'd only found the one opening... where the key was... but he'd keep looking... after all she'd told him to look.

"Well... if we're going to the game... we need to go... I guess we can eat at the stadium" Nick peeled off some euros and left them for the waitress.

Liam nodded and the two men left the bar. 

****

Niebos

Phillip switched off the computer thoughtfully. The coded message from Eleanor still shown in his thoughts. Things were heating up in the outside world. Perhaps it was time for him to re-enter the game. Eleanor and Methos did not know the half of it. Nor... he felt certain... did they have all the pieces.

"I entrust this secret to you... Phillip." Darius had told him. "You are the only one who will know what to do with it when and if the time comes."

Phillip stood and stretched. Yes... it was time he got involved once more. He cricked his head to one side and then the other... letting all the tension flow out of him... it was time... it was more than time. With a smile... he headed to the weight room... he'd have just enough time for a really good workout before the next ferry. Then he'd make that side trip to Athens and then on to Paris. There was something in Paris he had to get... something Eleanor and Methos might need. He wasn't certain how it fit into this business or how this boy Derrick was a part of it all... he just knew that it did... and that only he could supply the final piece of the puzzle. "_Danae_," he thought, "_I am your champion for all time!_"


	31. 31

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Chapter 31

Seacouver

Joe glanced up absently as the door to the bar opened. Methos... looking for all the world like Adam Pierson, complete with slouching walk... came in, followed by an auburn-haired woman with glasses who was wearing a tailored gray pant suit and a long micro-fiber coat. Joe barely gave her a second glance.

"You made good time! Where's Ellie?" he asked as Methos claimed a seat at the bar and glanced around to be certain no one was there. His eyes narrowed a bit as he saw Mike sweeping up.

"Joe," Methos murmured, "meet my cousin... Evelyn Trenton." Methos arched an eyebrow with a knowing look.

Joe did a double take when he stared at the rather bookish woman with Methos. "Oh," he mouthed silently. Then he smiled, "Mike... why don't you knock off for a while. Go home... check on your family... make your reports."

Mike looked at Methos and the woman and nodded agreement. "Be careful, Joe," he said as he left.

Once Mike was out the door, Methos and Ellie nodded to one another.

"I'll get the back," said Methos and hopped off the stool to double-check the back entrance. Ellie went swiftly to the front door and threw the bolts. Then she walked back to the bar and took a seat.

Joe shook his head. "Even knowing it's you... it still threw me. How do you do that?"

Ellie shrugged as Methos returned, "Practice... lots of practice."

Joe took the time to really look at her. Her now auburn hair was swept up behind her in a French twist and the thick glasses over those gray-green eyes distorted her face just enough that unless someone really paid attention... they wouldn't realize it was her. She even seemed taller... not much... but maybe it was the erect and confident way she had carried herself when she had entered.

"Lifts?" he nodded at her feet.

She smiled and leaned on the bar. "Can't a girl get a drink?"

"Absolutely! What'll it be?"

"Water!" Methos said as he took his seat. "We need clear heads. Where's MacLeod?"

"He's keeping an eye on Derrick. He's also trying to see if anyone else is following the boy... I've even pulled the field Watcher off of Mac for the time being." He shrugged... "Council wasn't too happy but I said it might be the only way to get to this Peter Taylor. You thought of anything yet?"

"Not a thing." Methos shook his head. "You really think this is all about some immortal who just wants to drag me into a fight?"

"Looks that way. And we haven't learned too much about him... However... here's a photo from the files." He pulled out a folder from under the bar and tossed it to Methos who opened it but shook his head. He handed it over to Eleanor who stared at it a moment thoughtfully.

"San Francisco about 1900."

Joe and Methos started and stared at her.

"He was that young one who attempted to pick a fight with me while you, Sir Knight, came to my rescue." She laid a finger against her cheek and said with a smile, "Or was that his rescue... As I recall, I was ready to remove his head if he bothered me again."

Methos grabbed the photo back and stared at it. He still could not really remember the man. He'd been trying to get Eleanor back on an even keel about that time... and had been concerned that she would start a killing spree if she couldn't find some measure of balance. Since 1832 and for about one hundred years, she had been back and forth. One moment she was fine... the next she was ready to kill anything that moved, the next self-destructive. It had only been after he'd seen her in Israel after the Second World War that he'd finally felt she was finding her own balance once more. Raising those two orphaned children had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"I still don't remember him. I just remember trying to keep you from killing any man who happened to get too close to you."

"I didn't get his name... but I do remember the face." She picked up the water and took a long drink. "I always remember the faces. It seems our sins come back to haunt us. This is like Carerra all over again."

"No it's not... Not this time..." Methos clasped her hand. She smiled weakly and nodded. "This time you didn't kill a man and make him immortal. This time you walked away!"

She nodded thoughtfully, "But it was still one of our stupid games... you always warned us those might have unforeseen consequences..."

"You're not alone in this, Eleanor... I'm here," Methos said giving her hand a squeeze.

"The Watchers want this guy, too," said Joe evenly. Her smile brightened at that and he almost saw a twinkle in her eyes. Meanwhile he was filing these clues away... he didn't know what they were talking about... but he'd find out... he was determined to find out. As so long ago in Hawaii... she dropped clues... and once more... he was following them... eager to learn where they led.

"The important thing is to keep Derrick safe." Eleanor finally said. "Maybe I should just take him out of here. Take him somewhere else where I know he'll be safe."

"You are not going on the run again!" Methos raised his voice slightly. "We'll figure this out. Besides... we have to find out whether or not..." his voice trailed away.

"Besides," Joe interjected, "He says it's Adams he wants... seems real insistent."

"Then he probably knows I'm here." Methos polished off his water. "Gods, I'd love a beer!" But he shook his head. "Maybe later. I need to talk to MacLeod." He leaned over and kissed Eleanor's forehead, "Lock up after me... and keep Joe safe."

Ellie nodded and followed him to the door. After he left... she returned to the bar. "I suppose you want some answers now..." she smiled sheepishly.

"It'd be nice..." Joe pulled out the Baudelaire and smiled. "Where do we start?" Eleanor laughed, and Joe thought once more of tinkling bells.

***

An hour later, Joe knew little more than he had. At least she had explained about Carerra... about why she had left so suddenly. She'd explained that keeping him and the others safe and free of her world was what had mattered most to her at the time. She'd never even considered that he might already know about immortals... that he was well on his way to becoming a Watcher.

"I guess you'll want this back." Joe had indicated the Baudelaire.

"Keep it for now." she smiled. "Leave it to Lenore Edwards or even to Evelyn Trenton in your will... I'll get it then. But... don't be in any hurry. Mortal lives are too short as it is... treasure every moment... life and death are precious gifts."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Joe started toward the door, but Eleanor stopped him. "I think I'd better get that. Just in case..."


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Chapter 32

Duncan MacLeod remained parked in his T-bird on Grosvenor Street, keeping an eye on Derrick's school. The kids would be out soon for recess... and he felt he'd better be nearby. Derrick, he felt, had enough sense not to go anywhere with anyone he didn't know... but Duncan was more worried about something else happening. He'd remained uneasy... but he felt he'd already worn out a bit of his welcome at the Commons' house. He couldn't come out and tell them the truth... nor could he even tell them that "some friend of Carerra was after the boy... no one... not even George knew about Carerra. Telling Ron that would open another can of worms.

Already... George Layton was getting curious. It'd been almost two months... and the old man was evidently getting a little frustrated that Duncan had yet to explain what had happened to Derrick that had put him in the hospital. Getting Derrick into foster care was one thing... leaving Ellie's name out of it was still something that worried the man. He wasn't going to wait forever!

Duncan felt a presence as the city bus pulled into the bus stop and a familiar figure got out and sat down on the bench. Duncan left the car and crossed over to the bench.

"About time you got here!"

"Nice to see you too, Highlander." Methos quipped.

Duncan took a seat, "You alone?"

"Eleanor's at _Joe's_. I thought they should have some time to talk. How's Derrick?"

"The same. His class gets recess soon." Duncan leaned back on the bench almost adopting the same body position as his friend.. "So... did you find out what the deal was with them?"

"Who?"

"Joe and Ellie!" Duncan raised his voice slightly, a bit exasperated. "I'm getting really tired of your half-truths and mysterious asides and evasions!"

Methos chuckled and shook his head. "Not my story to tell... besides... if there's anything to tell... you've a damn sure better chance of getting something out of Joe than I have of getting anything out of Eleanor!"

"Just who is she exactly... and don't tell me it's not your story to tell!"

"But it's not!" Methos answered and shook his head. "You're not going to let this drop are you?" When Duncan glared at him, Methos continued, "She was my student after she died... we parted on less than friendly terms... but we have stayed in touch over the years. Let's just say I have always felt protective of her. If there was ever one of us less suited for the game than her... I've never met them. As I said in London... she took a quickening that nearly destroyed her."

"Is she still dangerous... would she hurt Joe?"

"I honestly don't know MacLeod... but I don't think so."

"When I met her a few months ago... I just thought she was this strange young immortal... now it seems she knows all my friends... she'd even met me before... and I didn't even remember her. Next you'll be telling me she and Amanda are girlfriends or that she once knew Fitzcairn..."

Methos smirked, "As a matter of fact... but I did promise not to tell that story again..."

"Methos..." Duncan warned.

"Later MacLeod... there's Derrick's class."

***

As he joined in the ball game with his classmates... Derrick noted Duncan and Adam on the bus bench across the street. He didn't acknowledge them... he had a feeling that Ron or Betty had talked to the school authorities about anyone hanging around. So Derrick shrugged and played ball with his classmates... focused on soccer for a change. This was something new to him.

There was _phfft!_ near the ground at his feet as he shifted to kick the ball. Immediately pandemonium broke out on the schoolyard! Several teachers began screaming and motioning the kids to get down... to get inside... Derrick turned back in the direction of the shot. For a moment all was silent and then... out of no where... Adam threw himself on top of the boy just as another shot rang out! And then several more! Adam gasped and jerked... his eyes looking into Derrick's nearly glazed over... then he took a deep breath and continued to cover Derrick... shielding him with his own body. He coughed blood and winked at Derrick... but he didn't die.

When he had recovered enough to move... Methos rose into a crouch and still shielding Derrick... got him to shelter against the school wall... then began to move him slowly toward the door and safety. Around them... they could both see several teachers and students laying in the dirt... many bleeding! And shots continued to ring out!

Once Derrick was in the building and on the floor in a huddled position with other children... Methos returned to the killing ground to rescue or assist others. He'd had more medical experience... so he had scaled the school fence to help while Duncan had taken off to find the sniper and deal with him. There was no doubt in either of their minds who the intended target was... even if others were hurt.

Methos focused on the girl bleeding and screaming on the ground. Arm wound... not too serious... more shock than injury. He bound her arm loosely with a strip of cloth torn from her skirt and picked her up to carry her inside the building. Then he returned once more... one of the very few who dared the sniper's sight once more. If he died... he'd just have to be certain not to wake up too soon. As for the blood from that first shot... he hoped if anyone saw it... they'd just think it was blood from one of the other victims. The shot had been bad... but not fatal and he'd recovered quickly.

Derrick met his eyes when Methos helped a teacher in... still bleeding badly from a scalp wound. The boy's eyes narrowed but he nodded. He knew! Methos was certain! He turned back to the schoolyard. The shots had stopped. "_Please MacLeod!_" he thought, "_Get the bastard!_" Then he headed toward a teacher whose still body lay atop a student. The teacher was dead... the student alive but hysterical. Methos gathered the girl into his arms and ran toward the school building once more.

From down the street... sirens were blaring as the authorities arrived. He'd have a devil of a time talking his way out of this... but at least the kids and Derrick were safe! Police personnel waved him back into the building so he retreated and leaned against the wall catching his breath.

Around him he heard teachers telling the children to report to their classrooms. Even as he prepared to leave... Derrick sidled over to Adam and squeezed his hand. "Thanks!" he whispered and then joined his class.

Methos watched them walk down the hall with relief. One crisis evaded! He'd have to call Ellie as soon as possible! Now where was MacLeod? Even as he tried to leave... a policeman stopped him. "Sorry sir... we'll need a statement!" Methos nodded, "_Of course they would._" He sighed. "_Gods I miss my privacy! And just when did I re-develop a conscience?_" He shook his head... and then turned to check on the victims inside... "I have some medical background, " he said as he went to work on them until the emergency team could get to the ones inside.

***

When that first shot had rung out, MacLeod's head snapped to the left as he eyed the roof of a nearby building. "Take care of Derrick!" he'd yelled at Methos as he took off toward the building. He'd seen a glare that might have been sun on a site or a gun... He was almost to the building, when more shots rang out... He spared only a moment to glance back and saw Methos collapse onto Derrick. _How had he gotten over that fence so fast!_ Duncan had no time to consider it further... he shouldered his way into the building and after yelling at someone to keep an eye on the elevator in case the shooter came down that way... he started climbing the stairs to the roof. Five stories... and all the while the sniper continued to shoot. Probably he had orders to make it look random... probably he had even been paid to be caught... there were some sick people in this world.

Duncan burst through the roof access door and ran towards the black-garbed sniper. He landed a well-placed kick on the man and the rifle went skittering across the roof... sparks flying. The man tried to twirl and kick Duncan... but the immortal had already anticipated the move and blocked it with his centuries of experience. He then slammed one hand into the other's face and broke his nose. Blood spurted through the ski mask. The man stopped and put both hands to his face.

Duncan grabbed him and forced him backward over the lip of the edge of the building. "Give me one good reason not to drop you over!" he snarled. "Just one!"

Below him... Duncan could hear sirens wailing from police and emergency vehicles already arriving. He pulled the man back and slammed him against the roof. "Who hired you!"

He pulled his hand back to chop once more into the man's face. Duncan had seldom been quite so angry with anyone... in the glance over the lip of the building... he'd seen bodies down... and some of them were children!

"Tell me and I'll let the police have you! Otherwise..." he pulled his arm back even further and glared at the man.

"A guy named Peter Taylor... said to kill the boy... didn't say which one... I was just shooting at all of them... Didn't say why."

"Hope he paid you in advance... you're gonna need a good lawyer!"

By this time the police had arrived. Duncan raised his hands and backed away. He knelt when told to do so... already knowing that his sword might be a complication to his story. At least he hadn't had it out. Also... at least... if he was lucky... the people downstairs in the building would back up his story that he'd come up here to stop the sniper... God he hoped so!


	33. 33

****

Chapter 33

Ellie peered through the security peephole in the metal door. Behind her she heard Joe coming over.

"Probably some of my regulars. It's about time for some of them to start arriving." He reached for the bolt.

Ellie grabbed his hand. "Look first... do you know him... really know him?"

Joe peered through the hole... he'd seen this guy in here a few times. Heavyset... long gray-brown hair... beard... biker look to him... jeans... denim vest... T-shirt... usually bought a few beers. Did seem to like the jazz. "Not really," he admitted.

"Fine," she smiled. "You open and I'll stay back here... out of sight." she moved back and Joe threw the bolt and opened the door gingerly.

"Sorry about that... come on in," he said stepping behind the opened door as he smiled. The man came in. "Just hadn't gotten around to unlocking the door yet." Then he saw the gun.

Even before the man could raise it... Ellie kicked out at him twice. The gun went flying into the air to land in her hand... meanwhile the suddeness of the attack had landed the biker on the floor. Ellie cocked the gun and held it to his head. Then she smiled. "Bang... you're dead." She lifted the gun and removed the clip, tossing it to Joe while she eased the gun into the waistband of her trousers.

She knelt by the man who tried once more to hit her. She grabbed his arm and twisted it around until Joe heard bones snap. Then she dropped it. "Oh... so sorry... don't know my own strength sometimes..." Then she smiled and grabbed hold of the broken arm while the man screamed. "Of course... sometimes I do." She squeezed at the break. The man's face indicated shock and his eyes rolled up. As he fell to one side unconscious, Ellie glanced at Joe soberly... "You got a first aid kit or some splints... I need to make him comfortable..."

Joe nodded. He was speechless. He handed her the clip back and went to the bar for the first aid kit. Along the way... he thought he'd have a fast drink. His hands shook slightly as he poured a bourbon... then downed it in one gulp. He grabbed the kit and walked back over to Ellie.

By this time... she had applied pressure to the man's wound and was assessing the damage. She looked up as he handed her the case. "Splints?" When he shook his head. She glanced around, "Can I break a chair?"

Joe nodded.

"Then don't just stand there... lock the door while I deal with him." Then she grabbed one of his chairs and lifted it as if considering the best way to get what she wanted. Next she crashed it against the table. While she was sorting through the pieces... Joe locked the door.

Finally he regained his voice, "A little rough on him?"

Ellie smiled as she started setting the arm... "Oh don't worry... I haven't killed a mortal in ages... it's more fun to intimidate them. Besides... we need him to talk and if he's in pain... so much the better." She grinned... "Bet you didn't know I had all that in me, did you?"

Joe sighed, "Well you did say something the other night in London about not killing mortals... but I hadn't really considered that you could be quite so vicious."

Ellie shrugged, "Part of the immortal package, I'm afraid... even your friend MacLeod has a lot of this in him... some of us try harder to control it then others, though... some of us older ones... we fear where the darkness might one day take us all." She finished with the splint, then got the pitcher of ice water from behind the bar and dumped it on the man.

She crouched beside him once more as he sputtered back into consciousness. She grinned wickedly and tentatively clasped one hand about the man's broken arm, "Sorry about that... but we need to talk... or I could break it again... or something else... or..." she squeezed.

"Look lady... I'll tell you anything... just stop doing that..."

Ellie smiled, "You want to question him Joseph?"

"Hell yes!" Joe laughed and pulled up a chair before the man. Ellie settled back on the floor to watch. For a moment, Joe thought her eyes had flashed brightly... but it was only for a moment. 

***

An hour later... a Watchers' retrieval squad had picked up the man known as Butch Carney and Joe was on the phone to the Council. Taylor was definitely making a move against them. He listened to their instructions and grunted his acquiescence. Members of the squad had glanced quizzically at Ellie, seated quietly on a barstool sipping water. She seemed even more delicate and bookish then before. Her only statement to the Watchers was "It all happened so fast I really don't know how it went down..." Carney said nothing. She'd promised to break his other arm in several places if he mentioned that it had been she who was involved in the fight. As it was... the Watchers seemed to think Joe had somehow overpowered the man and broken his arm when he hit his attacker with the chair.

The team had Carney out of there and no authorities were called. This was now a Watcher matter. As the door shut behind them and Joe bolted it once more... wondering if he should even open tonight... Ellie had pulled out her cell phone and was dialing Methos. "Damn! No answer!" She was worried about Derrick.

"Try MacLeod's!" Joe suggested and then gave her the number when she indicated she didn't know that one. But there was no answer there either. Now Joe was starting to worry. One of them should have answered... if they were able.

On a hunch... he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV over the bar. The news reporters on scene told the story. A sniper at Grosvenor Street Elementary... four dead... suspect in custody. Ellie's face drained of color... "No..." she murmured, even as her eyes rolled up and she slumped down, crashing to the floor with a thud. Joe finally managed to maneuver himself to the floor and held her head in his lap. She seemed almost catatonic. He felt for her pulse... thready at best... he was definitely worried... "_Who do you call when an immortal passes out?_" he thought... "_Not the emergency room, that's for damn sure._" He pulled her up into his lap and held her tightly... he didn't know what else to do.

****

London

Peter Taylor heard the news about the sniper shooting as he was walking into Heathrow airport. He smiled... his people were beginning their onslaught. By tonight... all of Adams' mortal friends would be dead... he'd be angry... he'd be despondent... his head would be Taylor's. Now all he, Peter Taylor had to do, was get there and challenge him. His phone rang and one of his people called in his successful elimination of one of the targets. Taylor grinned as he went through security... he'd left his sword in an airport locker... he'd pick up its sister once he was back in the states. Once he had returned to Seacouver... all would be accomplished... perhaps even the woman would have surfaced again... he still had people in Paris trying to figure out just where the hell she had gone.

****

New York

M'Benga was furious! He threw his wineglass at the television as the report of the school shooting made the national headline news. "_That imbecile Taylor!_" he thought. Then M'benga quickly dialed flight reservations... if necessary... he'd charter a flight to Seacouver. He had to get to that boy! If he had thought he might be able to work within Taylor's plans to get what he truly wanted... he was sadly mistaken... the young immortal was an arrogant ass! He reacted violently to things instead of planning his revenge. M'Benga was already considering what to do if it were too late to get to the boy... If he were already dead and revived... he'd have to go home to Switzerland and await another opportunity... If he were still alive... there might still be a chance he could get to the boy. But if so... he'd have to take him now... he could no longer afford to wait.

As for Peter Taylor... his head too would be his! And sooner than it might have been! M'Benga packed his bag and called the front desk to settle his bill. He had ground to make up and he didn't like it!


	34. 34

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Chapter 34

Athens

Phillip was dozing in a chair at the Athens airport while awaiting his flight when he heard people around him make some comments about a shooting. He glanced up and when he heard Seacouver he groaned. Evidently, things were not going well... this had to be about this boy Derrick. He felt in his coat pocket and was relieved "_it_" was still there. He thought about changing his plans... but no... he needed to get to Paris... he needed to collect what Darius had shown him... somehow... it fit... he knew it did... he just wished he knew what the hell was going on.

He'd never heard Danae's voice in his head. She had never been more than his mentor and teacher. He'd never considered there was anything more to her than just that... not until Methos had once mentioned Aja and that he thought they were one and the same... that it was Aja who sometimes spoke to Eleanor. Phillip shook his head... this was all just too weird for him.

He'd actually gone to Paris to talk to Darius about it shortly before his friend was killed... now he played that last conversation over in his mind... seeking an answer to what was going on...

***********

__

Paris 1993

Darius was seated behind his desk and had smiled and nodded slightly to one side when he'd looked up at Phillip. The Greek had come to Paris with Carlo to see some specialists... and while Carlo was getting checked out... Phillip had begged off to see Darius. He needed to talk to him about "things." Carlo had nodded... knowing how uncomfortable hospitals and doctors in general tended to make the immortal. It was as if he thought someone would try to take a blood sample from him or insist on his getting checked out while they were there. Phillip couldn't allow that to happen. So he'd gone to see Darius.

"Hello old friend." Darius greeted him with a laugh. "What brings you to Paris!"

"This and that..." Phillip had evaded, not really wanting to get into Carlo's health problems. He settled into one of the chairs and looked at the chessboard. It was in mid-game. Phillip moved one hand back and forth and grinned. "Black in seven moves."

"I know..." Darius said, "MacLeod gets better but still can't beat me."

"I still can't believe you decided to take him on as a student. He never seemed the type to be a peacemaker."

"He is more friend than student, I'll grant you. Still... he is a man of honor... and that is something to be appreciated."

"Expecting him? Then I'll make myself scarce..." Phillip rose to leave.

"No... no... my friend... he just left. Stay and have some mold tea with me." Darius grinned, the amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"I think not... any mead?" Phillip jested... though in reality... it was not drink he wanted this day.

"The next batch will be ready in a few weeks."

"Ship me some!"

"I'll try..." Then Darius looked very solemn... as if something were bothering him.

"Can I help..." Phillip asked. He'd come for help... but maybe Darius needed something more. Phillip had never understood what had made the Goth stay here so long. Religion... pacifism... service to others... these things he understood. But to stay in one place? No he'd never understood it.

"Eleanor's gone... to Africa."

Phillip shrugged, "Eleanor's always off to some part of the world... she's a sprite who can't settle into one place no matter how you try my friend... especially since you remain in this life..." Phillip's voice trailed off. He was edging into an area he did not wish to discuss.

Darius smiled and nodded. "I know... at least she still seems stable. Perhaps I should join her in Africa and end this charade."

"Do what you need to do my friend... but do it because it's what you want!"

Darius nodded but said nothing... his thoughts were evidently on Eleanor. It had been luck that Phillip had been here that night in 1832 to stop her from killing the priest. Everything had changed then... Phillip had been concerned enough when he'd seen her prowling the streets and then her mad dash into the church... concerned that he might have to kill his student. But she had come back just enough for him to get her out of there. But nothing had ever been quite the same. Phillip still feared that if Darius were ever away from holy ground... Eleanor might finally take his head... and the priest would welcome it. Perhaps hoping to finally save her as he himself had once been saved.

And that thought reminded Phillip of why he was here... to ask Darius if he'd ever heard of Danae before or other than in the tales Phillip had told... and had he ever heard of Aja. Darius shook his head. Neither name meant anything to him beyond what Phillip had always said about Danae. He told him how Edward had told him that he thought they might be the one and the same. They might be the Lady that Eleanor claimed she heard in her head sometimes.

At that, Darius' eyes had narrowed. He seemed to consider something and then he rose to show Phillip a hiding place in his cell... he made certain Phillip could find it himself and that he would remember it. Then he showed him what he had placed in the opening and made Phillip promise to take this to Edward and to Eleanor when the time came. He'd know when it was time. He'd know!

"But why don't you give it to them now?" Phillip asked.

"Because they're not ready... not yet. Keep this a secret my friend... no matter what... don't reveal it until you know they're ready."

"How will I know?"

And Darius had smiled. "You'll know my friend... you just will."

**********

****

Athens

So Phillip had promised. After all... even though he was older than Darius... he respected his wisdom. And he was certain his other friends had secrets they'd kept for centuries. He was content to wait for the answers. Besides... Carlo's illness and death had pretty much removed his thoughts about this promise to Darius from his mind. Now, with all this talk about the boy Derrick and Darius and this Reborn business... maybe, just maybe... it was time. He felt again in his pocket. It was still safe... He was the cavalry... coming to the rescue... or at least... he might have the final piece of the puzzle. What a glorious day it would be if the puzzle of Danae... Aja... was finally complete... He could die a happy man if that were so. Once again he thought, "_Danae my Lady... I am your Champion... for all time!_" But she had never answered or spoken to him... not in all the years he had been an immortal. He had never found her... he had never known for certain she was an immortal... he had just believed it. Faith can be a powerful tool!


	35. 35

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Chapter 35

Seacouver

Eleanor stirred slightly in Joe's arms and a small moan sounded raggedly from her throat. Her green eyes fluttered open as she stared at him without recognition. She was trembling and Joe held her tightly. He did not know what to say. How could someone be so "with it" one moment and so lost the next. 

She sat up suddenly and stared at the bolted door. A knock sounded. Two raps... then a pause... then one rap. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the door throwing the bolt and swinging the door wide. Methos was there! She grabbed at him, pulling him into the bar, and pushed him against the wall.

"He's fine Eleanor! Derrick is okay!"

She stared at the blood on his sweater and made whimpering sounds.

"It's all right!" Methos placed both his large hands about her face and forced her to look at him... not the blood. "It's my blood. Not his. Derrick is fine. He's not hurt."

She collapsed against him crying. "I can't lose him... not again... not again."

"I know my love." Methos kissed the top of her head and held her gently... letting her get all of this out. His eyes took in Joe's sprawled form on the floor. "What happened here?"

Joe shrugged, "We had a visitor... tried to kill me."

Still embracing Eleanor... Methos slowly walked over to Joe. "Are you all right?"

"Fine... fine... Eleanor collapsed when we heard about the school shooting... I got down here to check on her and..." he grabbed his cane to get up.

Immediately both Methos and Eleanor reached over to help him. He let them... he was a little stiff.

"Where is Derrick... who's watching him now," Eleanor insisted after they got Joe into a nearby chair.

"The school has all the children under lock-down... parents are allowed to come pick them up. There's security everywhere." Methos said.

"Take me there!"

"Eleanor they won't let you in the building!" Methos tried to say.

"He's my brother! They will damn well let me in to see him!" Eleanor yelled. Then stopped and rubbed her head absently with her left hand... she shook her head. "I know I'm not making sense. But take me there... please Methos... I need to see him with my own eyes."

"What about Joe? We can't leave him. I only left Derrick because I knew he was safe and I wanted to be certain you were all right!"

"Why didn't one of you call?" Joe asked.

"One bullet that hit me killed my cell phone... Mac's kind of in hot water... they arrested him too... confiscated his sword... took him downtown."

"Then we are going to the school..." Eleanor started toward the door. "Are you coming?"

Methos shrugged at Joe. "Will you be all right here by yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah... I'll re-bolt the door. Somehow I don't think _Joe's_ is open for business tonight. Do I need to bail MacLeod out?"

"I don't think he'll be charged with anything... except maybe for carrying the sword."

"How come you didn't get charged?"

"Because I was the foreign medical student helping the shooting victims on the playground. I wasn't searched by police." Methos smirked. "I let him play Boy Scout while I acted as human shield!"

"And you say you don't care!" grinned Joe as the immortals left his bar. As he threw the bolt, he noticed that Methos was driving Mac's car. Once they were gone... he settled back into a barstool and absently picked up the Baudelaire. He opened the book and stared at the picture. "_Maybe things happen for a reason,_" he thought. "_Maybe Lee had to leave so that he, Joe Dawson, was now in a position to help her as she had once helped him._" He smiled, then flipped a page to read... He'd call the Watcher hot line later... right now he wanted a few moments alone to think and remember.

************

__

Hawaii 1969

"Hey there stranger..." Joe said pleasantly to the woman in the solarium. "Haven't seen you in several days." Using the walker he slowly made his way over to her.

"Hey there yourself... you are walking mighty fine these days." Lee had grinned and absently closed the book she was reading. He noticed that her bookmark was the photo of them he'd bought that night of their "date".

"Regular Jesse Owens..." he awkwardly settled himself next to her on the bench and grunted. "Sorry... still getting used to these."

"Not bad for a month old baby." She chuckled. He loved her laugh. It was like listening to bells.

"Has it been that long since I got these things?" Joe groaned. Already it seemed like forever. Even the memories and the phantom pains were starting to fade some. His visits with the local shrink were going much better these days.

"They are shipping me stateside in a few weeks," he finally said.

Lee shifted like silk on the bench... curling one leg up under her. "So soon..."

"Yeah... there's a really good facility in Chicago and that's my home so that's where I'm headed."

"You'll be glad to see your family and friends." When he didn't answer... she leaned over and whispered, "But you will... and they will be happy to see you! Treasure every moment with those who love you, Joseph! Once they are gone... those moments never come again."

"Would you come to Chicago?" he asked her.

"Me?" She laughed. "What would you want with me there?" 

"Show you the town... take you to a Cubs game... buy you a real slice of Chicago pizza... take you dancing... a real dance! Play some blues for you..." He shrugged.

She leaned her head on her left hand, which rested on the bench back and shook her head. "Ohh Joseph... you don't really know anything about me... I'm not really the kind of girl to take home to Momma!"

"Momma will love you!" He grinned.

She looked at the ceiling and as if searching for something to say... but she was smiling.

"So... what are you reading," he picked up the book and flipped through the pages. "Uh oh... my high school French isn't enough to get through this..."

"Well... you could always take some refresher courses or upper level studies. Baudelaire was the first truly modern poet. He bridged the gap between the romanticism of the nineteenth century and the modern realism that was to come in the twentieth."

"Is that so," Joe had said, arching an eyebrow and thinking how much like a teacher she sounded, "Read me one... and translate..." he handed the book back to her.

She glanced at the one he'd chosen at random. Her face reddened... "Uh... No... Not that one... but I don't mind reading some of the others to you... I take my break in here most days about this time... if someone wanted to learn some French and meet me here... I could read aloud." She smiled... and Joe thought there was something in the way she had said those words that had reminded her of something... a memory that was near and dear to her heart.

**********

****

Seacouver

Several weeks later, when the man he now knew had been Carerra had shown up... and Lee had handed Joe the Baudelaire and never returned... he'd kept the book. She had simply vanished and no one knew what had happened to her. Then he'd been shipped stateside two days later. He'd taken the book with him... hoping against hope she would show up in Chicago... to reclaim it. But she never had. And then he'd gone on to London and the Watchers. Lee had become a only a memory... a path not taken... a future never realized.

Joe found the poem she would not read that day... Once his French was good enough... he had realized that several of those poems were erotic masterpieces... including this one. No wonder her face had reddened. Now... Joe wondered if Charles Baudelaire had written them of Ellie herself when he had known her as the "_M--_" of the inscription. Was she the mysterious green-eyed mistress and muse? Was she the "_Angel Immortal_"?

He glanced up at the TV still blaring about the shooting... As the live shot panned over the area around the school... Joe saw Mac's T-bird drive up.


	36. 36

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Chapter 36

Methos put Mac's car in park and turned off the ignition. He glanced at Eleanor whose eyes were focused on the school and on the three-ring circus of news and police surrounding it. All cars were being stopped and parents... at least Methos assumed they were parents... were being checked with hand-held metal detectors before being allowed into the building. Moments later... they would emerge... children in tow.

Eleanor was still trembling, so he reached over to give her a hug. She shrugged him off... so he sat quietly just watching her.

"I told you there's no way in..."

"Maybe for you... now hush so I can concentrate..."

Methos leaned his head back. He was tired. First there had been the long flight from London... then the events on the playground and then his mad dash across town fearful that Eleanor would learn of the shooting before he could get to her. He glanced over at her once more... but it was not rage or self-destruction he saw in her eyes... there was just that stubborn, determined immortal he had known for so long. She had to be independent! She had to be on her own! Except she seldom had been. One of them had always been there to keep an eye on her... Methos reached out and smoothed the auburn hair that had fallen loose from the French twist.

Eleanor smiled and reached up to clasp his hand. "Thanks for playing human shield... I know that hurt."

He grinned, "You have no idea!"

With her other hand she pulled the visor down and started combing her hair with her fingers and checking how she looked. Letting go of his hand, she tossed the glasses onto the dashboard and rubbed her eyes. When she was ready... she removed her short sword from the lining of her coat and handed it to him. "Keep this... I can't get in with it on me." Then she opened the passenger door and stepped out.

Methos threw the sword into the back seat... he climbed out as well... then leaned in and tossed his own broadsword back there as well. Then the gun he carried as backup. She wasn't going alone! He followed her.

She had already charmed her way through the police barricade by the time he caught up with her. He was held up there answering questions while she was checked into the building and disappeared from sight. Just as he was finished... a newswoman came up... "Weren't you one of the people who helped shield the children when the sniper was shooting... Would you let me interview you for the news?" Methos groaned... he hated being the center of anyone's attention!

"Sorry... got to go..." he murmured and walked to the door considering how to get in... He wondered what story Eleanor had used... should he admit to being with her? He shrugged and stuffed his hands deeply into the pockets of his coat and tried to slouch as much as possible... Adam Pierson once again.

Eleanor was led into the gym. The remaining dozen or so children were on the bleachers there... along with the remaining faculty and several police officers. She saw Derrick immediately and smiled... content to see for herself that he was all right... that he wasn't hurt. She could leave now...

Derrick saw her too. He raced across the gym, eluding an adult who tried to grab him, "Ellie!" He flew into her arms and clung to her with all his strength. Eleanor held him too. Tears sprang to her eyes and she kissed the top of his head. "Don't leave me Eleanor... don't ever leave me again!" Derrick sobbed.

"I'm here Derrick... I won't leave you... I won't."

A trim black woman in a business suit walked up, "I'm Principal White and you are?"

Before Eleanor could say anything, Derrick whipped around. "This is my sister Ellie... "

Principal Amelia White checked her clipboard and cleared her throat, "I don't have a sister named Ellie as an approved pickup for you young man... besides aren't you in foster care? I don't recall there being any family mentioned."

"She's my sister... just because she's not on your list doesn't mean she's not!" Derrick trembled with rage.

Eleanor pulled him close to her, "Shh... Derrick! We have to play by the rules." She smiled at the woman. "I am his sister... I lost custody of him recently... some unforeseen problems... I'm not trying to take him out of here... I just heard about the shooting and needed to be certain he was all right. We'll just sit and wait for the foster parents... they'll be here soon?"

"I need your name for my records!"

"Ellie Trenton," said a voice behind her. Methos slouched into the gym. "She happens to be my... cousin... I was here earlier."

"Yes... I do remember you... you were on the playground earlier when the shooting started..."

"Right," nodded Methos. "I had stopped by to see Derrick over the fence when the shooting started... " he shrugged, "kinda got involved. Then I brought Ellie here as I knew she'd be worried." Half-truths were likely the best and he was probably the clearest thinking one of the three at this moment. Besides... he had to work their identities into what either of them may have said.

"Well... as long as you don't try to leave with him... I suppose you can wait on the bleachers, " the principal said... though clearly still suspicious. Trouble was... and she could see it clearly... Derrick knew them... was clearly attached to them... both of them... but if he had family... why was he in foster care... Amelia White did not like this one bit. But it had been an upsetting and traumatic day... perhaps the continued presence of this strange couple could calm the boy back down. She watched carefully as Ellie and Derrick sat on the bleachers... brother and sister holding onto one another for all they were worth. The cousin stood looking about... assessing the room... then sat next to them. Amelia wished Ron or Betty Commons would get there so she could turn both the boy and the problem over to them.

An hour later they were still there. All of the other children had been picked up by this time... but the Commons couple was still a no-show. Amelia White had asked the police to check on the couple... they were usually very reliable. Betty or Ron Commons was always there every day to pick the boy up from school. Amelia dismissed the other faculty... they'd have an in-service day tomorrow and set up their crisis management teams... but for now... everyone needed to go home... be with families... grieve... get through all of this. Even she needed to go home... she wanted to hold her own babies... her mother... her husband.

She glanced over at the three on the bleachers. Both of the adults now had their arms about one another and the boy... just one big happy family! Amelia narrowed her eyes... if they were cousins... they were certainly close to one another... maybe she should do some extra checking. Just then a policewoman entered and motioned to her.

From the bleachers Methos watched the principal cross the gym to talk to the policewoman. He had a bad feeling about this. He'd never met the Commons couple... but he gathered that they were quite conscientious about their charges. Their delay here to pick up Derrick was bothersome. He clasped Eleanor and Derrick tightly and gave Eleanor's arm a slight squeeze. When she met his gaze, he nodded toward Principal White and the policewoman. Eleanor watched their conversation and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and then re-met Methos' gaze. She nodded and bit her lower lip.

Another black woman, who was wearing a navy pantsuit and carrying a file, joined Principal White and the policewoman. She was wearing a badge and about her neck was a red scarf. The trio of women came over to the bleachers.

"I'm Felicia Washington... with Social Services... Derrick I'm going to need you to come with me."

"No!" Derrick buried his face in Eleanor's chest. "I'm staying with Ellie!"

Methos asked calmly, "What has happened?"

"I'm sorry... you are?"

"Adam Pierson... I'm family."

Felicia checked the file she had, "I don't see your name in his file."

"That's because Derrick had amnesia... but you can see he knows us now." Methos continued to keep his voice pleasant and even.

Derrick looked out once more, "Ron and Betty... something happened to them too... didn't it?"

Felicia nodded reluctantly, "Seems there was a fire at the house. They're both dead... I have to take you with me... re-found family or not... we have rules... they are for your protection... your safety."

Derrick turned his face back into Eleanor's chest and his shoulders shook with his sobs. His hands twisted into her clothes and he hung on for all he was worth.

"Can't you see he needs his sister right now?" Methos gestured and put his arms about them once more.

"I am sorry... perhaps you could accompany us to the offices... maybe we can work something out... but not tonight... he has to go back into the system tonight."

Eleanor finally spoke up. "Yes... he does..." Methos glanced at her. "But you need to put him in protective custody. If his foster parents were also killed... as were our parents..." she arched an eyebrow at Methos, "then the people who tried to kill us all four years ago are trying again. The shooting here and the fire have to be related."

Felicia Washington's eyes widened. "Just who are you? Who were your parents?"

"I really can't say anything... at least not here. Please... let me stay with Derrick until you have him in custody. Until you have him safely under guard somewhere."

Felicia Washington nodded, "Well... he clearly knows you from somewhere..."

"There is a Duncan MacLeod whose name might be in the records... he could also help... I think the police may have taken him downtown... Also... there was a former Social Services friend of his George..." Eleanor shook her head, "I don't recall his last name... Derrick do you remember?"

"George Layton... we play chess. Call him... I'll go with you if you call George Layton." Derrick's grief seemed to have passed for the moment. But he still clung tightly to Eleanor. It was obvious the boy was going nowhere without his sister.

Felicia nodded and pulled out her cell phone. She recalled meeting George Layton when the boy's file had been dropped into her lap. She'd have to call the office to get his number from them. She turned away to make her call.

The policewoman... evidently satisfied that things were in hand... walked off. Amelia White watched everyone suspiciously. She was tired. She wanted to go home... Sometimes being the one in charge was not a pleasant job. She'd have to stay until all of this was cleared up. She turned and walked over to the school counselor to talk about the crisis teams they would be implementing when school resumed. 

Behind her on the bleachers... Methos whispered to Eleanor... "Good thinking... I've always wondered how you seem to know just what to say to people to get them to trust you." Eleanor smiled and hugged Derrick.

"Oh something an old teacher once taught me... long ago. By the way... thanks again for the support."

"You shoulda seen him earlier Ellie," Derrick interjected, "Adam was great during the shooting... he seemed to go everywhere... and I know he took a bullet... but like Superman... it bounced off of him."

Eleanor grinned, "Yeah... he's kinda my knight in shining armor sometimes."

"I never liked wearing armor as you well know." Methos smirked... but then he smiled and stroked her hair. Maybe this could work after all.


	37. 37

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Chapter 37

At the police station... Duncan waited patiently for the paperwork to clear... he had no choice. He had pretty much been cleared of any suspicion in the sniper shooting... and despite or maybe because of what the sniper had said... he simply had to wait it all out.

And then there was his _katana_. He'd shown them the paperwork and indicated he was a dealer in exotic weapons and had been on his way to see a buyer... but the detective didn't seem to be buying into that story.

Right now detective Dwight Barren was deep in conversation on the phone and checking things on his database. At least he had removed the handcuffs from Duncan's wrist. Finally he hung up the phone and nodded to Duncan. "Guess you can go now... your story checks out with the witnesses and the references you gave."

"What about the sword?"

"Well now... that's a problem. Seems the records show you often seem to be carrying a sword. I've sent it off to be tested... just to be on the safe side." He smirked at Duncan. "Any problems with that?"

"None... but I want a receipt... it's very valuable." Duncan met his gaze evenly... without malice or trying to hide anything. If he wanted to allay the detective's suspicions... he needed to be as open and relaxed with him as he could be. It was definitely time to leave this town behind! The only reason he came back here at all was to see Joe and to visit Anne and Mary occasionally. He didn't even own a place here anymore. He just stayed at that apartment he'd rented when here.

"By the way... MacLeod," Barren said as Duncan rose to leave, "Too bad you couldn't have been in more than one place today."

"Why do you say that..." Duncan turned, a shiver running up his spine.

"Seems about a half an hour after the school shooting... there was another attack over on Patterson Street."

"Another one... anyone hurt?"

"Yeah... three people down... they're all at County... you wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Duncan shook his head, "Patterson Street... that borders the park..." Suddenly Duncan had a very bad feeling about that second shooting. "Am I free to go...?" He gestured at the door.

"Said so... didn't I!" Barren turned back to his reports.

Duncan grabbed a cab outside and headed for County. While in the taxi... he called Joe and got the latest from him. "Stay inside... get some backup..." he told his friend and hung up. He hoped Methos and Ellie knew what they were doing rushing back to the school. Right now... he had to check on the second set of victims.

***

The information desk confirmed Duncan's greatest fear... one of the victims was George Layton. The old man had taken several shots and was currently in surgery. Duncan settled down to wait.

"Duncan?" He glanced up to see Anne Lindsey peering at him.

"Hello Anne... just checking on a friend." Duncan smiled at her tiredly but he didn't really want her involved. He glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching him even now... taking note of his friends... making plans to kill them.

"One of the sniper victims?" Anne sat down beside him. "I worked on some of the kids when they were brought in... I was absolutely floored that anyone would shoot at a schoolyard. Maybe it's the mother in me."

"Yeah... how's Mary..."

"A tomboy... big time. Max loves it." Anne bit her lip. Mary's father was not someone she liked to discuss with Duncan. She hadn't thought Max was at all interested... and he wasn't... he just somehow kept showing up to take Mary out for outings... and since Anne had no one in her life these days... Max was welcome.

"Listen Anne... someone might be targeting people who know me... get away from me and make certain Mary's all right." Duncan raised an eyebrow at her hoping she'd take the warning the right way.

Anne's face blanched and she nodded. Then she said brightly, "See you around Duncan." Then she rose and took off down the corridor.

Duncan breathed deeply. He looked around once more to see if anyone seemed out of place or taking note of Anne's sudden departure... but everything seemed normal. God he hoped so.

Finally a doctor in surgical scrubs came toward him.

"Mr. MacLeod? Duncan MacLeod?"

"I'm Duncan MacLeod," he said simply.

"I'm Dr. Ryan Atteberry... I'm George Layton's surgeon."

"How is he?"

"In recovery... he was asking for you before surgery... when I saw your name on the list at the information desk... I thought I'd talk to you... are the two of you relatives?"

"No... we're just friends... very good friends."

"Well... in that case... I can't really say anything about his condition... but he did indicate he wanted to see you... specifically you... if he survived surgery. I'll leave your name at the nurses' station. One of them can come get you when he's awake. I will allow you to see him for a few minutes... but only a few minutes... and don't upset him!" Atteberry walked briskly away.

Duncan settled down once more to wait. At the moment... it was all he could do.

***

Inside the curtained area of the recovery room... Duncan saw immediately that George Layton was in very bad shape. The nurse pulled the curtain behind her as she left and Duncan stood quietly over the old man.

George opened his eyes and nodded weakly at Duncan.

"Don't talk George... save your strength."

George shook his head. "Need to know... Derrick?"

"He's fine George..." Duncan hoped so even as he said it. He smiled at George.

George coughed and winced in pain. "Why?"

Duncan shrugged, "I don't know for sure George... maybe someone out to get to me... or someone from Derrick's past... the one he can't remember." He really didn't want George to know about immortality... that didn't seem fair to the man.

"Knew something ... wrong... heard about ... sniper on Cleavant's radio in ... park..." he coughed again.

"Easy George... you have to let this go..." Duncan urged his friend to relax, touching his shoulder gently.

George gripped Duncan's hand tightly, "Watch over that kid Duncan!" his eyes widened and then glazed over. The monitor beeped a loud tone indicating his heart had stopped. Duncan backed out of the way as the medical team entered to perform CPR. But Duncan knew his friend was gone.

"_Don't worry George... I will keep an eye on that boy... both eyes... as often as I can!_" he promised silently to his departed friend's spirit... then he turned and sadly left the hospital. Whoever this Peter Taylor was... whatever his reasons were... he was Mac's enemy now... and he wanted his head... no matter what!


	38. 38

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Chapter 38

Paris

Phillip stood easily at customs as the agent opened the case containing his sword and handled it quizzically.

"And this is for...?" the agent asked.

"A gift... for a friend... a birthday gift... he's a collector... it's an antique..." Phillip smiled smugly... the lies pouring from his lips easily.

The agent nodded... returned the sword to its case then checked Phillip's luggage carefully. "Not much here monsieur. Clothes and such."

"I intend to shop for new ones. I adore Paris fashions." Again Phillip lied. After going to Darius' church... he'd be out of here on the next trans-Atlantic flight... but under another alias.

"Of course!" The agent seemed satisfied and stamped Phillip's passport... "Monsieur Phillips, you are free to enter France. Enjoy your stay."

Phillip grasped his bags and smiled genially. _Thank the gods that was over!_ He headed for the doorway and flagged a taxi. As his bags were loaded... he automatically checked the crowd for watching faces... seeing none... he got into the taxi and gave it an address. Just to be on the safe side... he'd lead anyone watching a merry chase... he did have a few hours to kill... and he liked his little games.

***

Nick Wolfe was startled by the sense of a nearby immortal as he was crossing the _Pont Neuf_. He glanced around but saw only a little girl with blonde braids. She smiled at him and gave a little wave. Nick shook his head... Liam had told him there were even immortals who were children... but he'd never met one. Now seeing this small girl who looked to be about seven or eight years old... Nick wondered just how in the hell any of them survived at all. He slowly walked over to her... He wanted to meet this child... but he'd be wary... after all... even the children took heads Liam had told him.

"Hello there... are you by yourself?"

"For the moment... I was looking for a friend... actually. And you are...?"

Nick paused... finally he leaned on the parapet of the bridge beside her and said, "Nick... you can call me Nick."

The girl... if that's what she was... smiled with very old eyes, "Nice name..."

"And you?"

"Ohhh... Val will do..." She shifted her stance and folded her arms. She smiled brightly. "Have you seen another of us about... possibly blonde... jeans... suede coat...?"

"As a matter of fact..." Nick looked at her oddly. "Are you hunting?"

The little girl smiled... again... there was a great deal of age and amusement in her expression... "Hunting... oh yes... always hunting... but not for her... I just need to locate her... tell her that someone else is after her. So... where did you see her?"

Nick paused. "I didn't say I'd seen her."

"Yes you did... it was the way you asked if I were hunting." Val smiled once more and then broke into a grin as if she were some wise teacher helping a student to understand a simple lesson.

Nick thought a moment... finally he said quietly... hoping he was doing the right thing, "A friend might know where to locate her... if you come with me..."

"Very well... but don't make any sudden movements."

"I could say the same about you." Nick remarked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Then we understand one another perfectly." She took his hand. "I like having a young man around... I always like training them."

Nick wasn't quite certain what she was getting at. "I've already had a teacher."

"Of course you did... but green ones can always use extra teachers... there really is so very much to learn. Now where are we going?"

"How old are you?"

"Older than you... despite appearances..." Val motioned again for him to lead the way. She grinned, "_What an unexpected development! This could be fun!_"

***

Liam Riley glanced up in surprise to see Nick and what was obviously a very young immortal... or was she. He waited for the pair to join him in the church nave.

"Liam this is Val..." Nick motioned to the girl. "She's looking for your friend..."

Liam eyed Val carefully. Despite her very youthful appearance... this one was old. He nodded at her in respect.

Valeraine smirked, "Another religious... what is it about that pagan that keeps tabs on all of you... I guess I should have started with the churches."

"Oh..." Liam began cautiously, "she's just a friend..." Liam raised his eyebrows at Nick.

"Don't be coy priest... is she here? I have a message for her."

"Sorry... not here and I don't know how to reach her..."

"So what else is new... damn!" Valeraine stamped her foot in a move that was all too little girlish. "That woman never stays still for long... and no one ever wants to tell me anything... Just what kind of hold does she have over all of you."

Liam shrugged, "No hold... it's just I don't know you... why should I tell you anything?"

Valeraine shook her head. "No one ever takes me seriously!" She sat down in one of the church chairs and pouted. "Someone is after her... I know it. He's like me... a little on the _young_ side." She arched an eyebrow and gave Liam a meaningful look.

Liam nodded, "Which one?"

"Excuse me..." Nick interjected, "Would someone tell me what's going on? I know I'm the young one here... but I am the professional. And... I have contacts."

Liam shook his head and chuckled, "Sorry Nick... just didn't want you involved."

Valeraine regarded the young immortal carefully, "Are you really in law enforcement?"

"Used to be... I'm in the private sector now... but I still have contacts."

"Hmmm... maybe you could prove useful."

"Val," Liam began... "I don't think this is a good idea... _she_ doesn't like people following her. Or knowing too much about her."

"Can't be helped... Kenny... Kenneth... is after her I think. Do you know him?"

Liam nodded carefully. "He was once Amanda's student."

"Amanda's?" Val creased her brows. "Don't think I know that one... anyway... _she_ was at the school... you do know about the school?"

Liam nodded, "Heard about it but never been there."

"Right... anyway... Kenny left right after she did... I'm worried... I left the next morning... only I seem to have lost my mortal 'guardian.' Being my size... I find it necessary to have an adult with me out here in the real world."

"Mortal... what happened to him?" Nick wanted to know.

"Female... not certain... one moment she was there... the next gone. Not at all like her. I'm worried Kenny might have noticed her and taken her out."

"To get to you?" Nick persisted.

"I'd like to see him try!" she laughed. "Don't let my size fool you... I can take care of myself in combat... it's just modern regulations and authorities. They usually don't like children moving about between countries unless escorted."

"Kenny has always managed I gather." Liam responded.

""Yeah... well he usually kills anyone who looks after him... not very bright sometimes." Valeraine folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs.

"Can she stay here with you Liam..." Nick suddenly suggested. "I can do some checking... on this Kenny and on... your friend if I had a name..."

"Just check the police reports for Kenny... about ten... probably on the streets and puts on a scared little lost waif act when cornered," Val told him.

Liam agreed, "Leave my friend to us, Nick... stay out of it! For your own safety."

Nick nodded reluctantly... he wanted to know more about that immortal female... from the first moment he had seen her when she'd come into the churchyard... he'd been curious. He turned to leave.

"Bye Nick... thanks and I hope to see you again." Val flashed him a warm rather maternal smile as the young immortal began walking down the nave. 

"_Maybe Burt could be of some help,_" Nick thought as he exited the church.

After Nick had left, Liam pulled up a chair and faced Val... "Now who are you and how do you know... my friend?"

Valeraine smiled, "Oh I don't really _know_ her... but she is a friend of a friend... and he'd be very upset if anything happened to her... So... Liam?... How do you know her?"

Liam grinned and a small chuckle escaped his lips. "She's a friend of a friend... a very good friend... one no longer with us... and I think he'd be upset if anything happened to her too."

"Fine... then we are helping some friends... right?... and we both know just how rare friendship is in our world."

Liam nodded, still uncertain about this one... but willing to work with her... but he'd keep a close eye on her nonetheless... and he wouldn't be leaving holy ground any time soon he figured... at least not alone.

"So... tell me about this friend of yours..." Liam began.

Valeraine smiled, and told him a just little about her gallant knight and about the Children's Crusade of 1212.


	39. 39

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Chapter 39

Seacouver

Upon leaving the hospital, Duncan called Joe and learned that Ellie and Methos had returned to the bar. They'd decided since it had limited access and no windows... it might be the safest place to be for the time being.

"Get back here Mac... we need to put our heads together... this day has been a real blood bath."

"What else happened?" Duncan flagged a taxi as he spoke.

"Tell you when you get here... we need to find this guy... fast!" answered Joe. Then he hung up. He glanced over at the immortals. They'd gotten here about fifteen minutes ago. Ellie was pretty quiet and Methos was hovering over her slightly. She yelled at him in that weird language of theirs and then covered her eyes. Joe could see her shoulders sag slightly and begin to shiver. Methos backed away from her at that point and sat at the bar next to Joe.

"I think I'm ready for that beer!"

Joe nodded and poured a draft. Handing it to him he asked, "What's that all about?"

"She's trying to sort through some things... when she's like that... it's best to let her be."

"So what's the story on her killing mortals."

Methos shook his head. "I'd rather she tell you... it's not my story."

Joe insisted, "Tell me something... when did you meet? Who the hell is she? Is she the m_ynishka_?... the green-eyed lady of Watcher legend?" Joe through up his hands, "Hell... anything Methos... Why do you seem to want to watch over her? That's not like you! Didn't you tell me you didn't really care about any of us!"

Methos took a long sip of his beer during Joe's long tirade and then grinned, "Well... I don't always tell you everything. I've been known to bend some facts now and then."

"Yeah... I know that... c'mon something..."

Methos glanced over his shoulder once more at Ellie, and regarded her soberly. "She was my ..." he paused and glanced at Joe, "... my student once. I had to teach her some hard lessons... not the least of which was not to trust me!"

"Can she?" Joe wanted to know.

Methos took another sip of the beer and then sat it down. He regarded Joe evenly. "With her life... but if you ever tell her that..." he smiled, "I'll deny it."

Joe looked at Ellie. Her eyes were closed. Her arms were crossed. She seemed deep in meditation. He glanced back at Methos. "I'm worried." He still recalled how suddenly she had just collapsed earlier. Ellie was obviously under a great deal of stress!

Methos nodded, "So am I. We need to take her mind off Derrick for a while... any suggestions?"

Joe smiled, "Maybe one." Then he grinned and walked away.

***

When Duncan arrived at _Joe's_ he was let in by Methos who nodded with a smile over at Joe and Eleanor.

Joe was playing the blues on his guitar. And Eleanor sat facing him... tapping her feet to the beat and nodding her head. Occasionally she was mouthing words and gesturing at certain phrases.

Duncan looked at Methos quizzically, "What's going on?"

"Something to lighten the mood. She always did have a thing for jazz," Methos smirked. He headed back toward the bar and Duncan followed and took a seat at one of the stools picking up a sandwich from a platter and accepting the beer Methos poured for him from the tap.

"So tell me... what else happened?" he asked the elder immortal.

"Derrick's foster parents were killed."

"Ron and Betty Commons?" When Methos nodded soberly, Duncan lowered his head and began to glare. "I want this guy, Methos, whoever this Peter Taylor is, for whatever reason he was after you, I want him now."

"Fine by me Mac... I don't even remember the guy." He briefly told MacLeod what they did know about Taylor... some young immortal who had once accosted Eleanor and who he, Methos, had warned to move on and basically 'get a life!' "I still have no idea why he wants me."

Joe finished a number to Ellie's enthusiastic applause, then began another. This one was slow and silky. Ellie leaned back in her chair and made a patting motion with her hand over her heart. She seemed much more relaxed.

"What about Derrick?" Duncan finally asked.

"Under police custody for the night. Eleanor and I are supposed to go in for an interview tomorrow after they check some records she told them about." He met Mac's question with a knowing look. "Evidently she prepared something to cover a similar situation several years ago... something about her and Derrick's parents being in witness protection and murdered. That the two of them had gone on the run. When Derrick was 'hurt' recently, she'd put him in foster care for safety. She told me later all the paperwork was in the system... She told them Derrick had amnesia but that he had witnessed something... and that whoever it was... was now after him. She's good Mac... damn she's good! Even better than I could have done on such short notice!"

"Let me guess... you taught her all she knows!" Duncan took a sip of the beer after he finished the sandwich.

"Not everything... but when she's at her best... she's very capable."

"Now you sound like a proud father!"

"Believe me MacLeod... I do not... nor have I ever thought of her as a daughter." Methos arched an eyebrow then went over to sit next to Eleanor, who was still totally focused on Joe's performance. Methos tentatively put his arm about her shoulders. She leaned into him, her foot still tapping the beat. Methos tightened his arm on her and caressed her shoulder. Duncan watched the three of them with wonder. Each of his friends apparently seemed at peace with the current situation between them. Duncan shook his head. Ellie was bewitching... but he honestly couldn't see just how or why his friends seemed so entranced by her. Maybe because she just wasn't his type.

He turned back to the bar and selected another sandwich. His thoughts were on all that had happened in the past few days... and on just how much he now wanted the head of this Peter Taylor! The immortal would pay for what he had done. By all that was right in this world... Peter Taylor would pay!


	40. 40

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Chapter 40

Paris

Kenny had had no luck finding Marie-France's friend... indeed... he didn't even know her name. She'd vanished so completely he no longer thought she was even in Paris. So... he'd decided on just seeing who was around and just whom he could properly dispose of when he noted a dark-haired and surly immortal on the _Rue Madame_. The man looked up when he sensed him... and gave him a withering look. Kenny decided he'd best beat a hasty retreat... this one obviously would not be taken in by his act.

He took off into the Luxembourg Gardens and was concentrating so hard on the immortal following him... that he failed to sense the one in front of him until it was almost too late. Kenny came to a screeching halt when he saw the "Swordmaster" before him.

He'd run into this one centuries ago... and the man had escaped his snare and warned the boy to leave him be. Kenny eyed the man evenly.

"Someone's after me... I need some help." He finally ventured.

Phillip nodded, "So I gather." He shrugged and started to walk past the boy.

"Aren't you gonna help..."

"No... I only help green ones... and you my lad... are no longer green." Phillip continued on his way.

Kenny stared after the "Swordmaster" in anger. He'd been very young when their paths had last crossed. The man had upended Kenny or Kenneth as he was known then and had warned him off. Kenny had taken the message and left. But he was no longer quite so young and certainly not innocent. He smiled archly... and looked around... in the gardens... there was only the two of them... and the "Swordmaster" was not looking.

Kenny quietly drew his sword and leaped with abandon toward the retreating immortal. At the same time he raised and swung his sword at Phillip who shifted casually to one side... turned and impaled the boy. "Sorry lad... you have to do better than that." Phillip grinned and withdrew the blade.

Kenny fell to his knees. "Do it!" he snarled, angry that he had failed... angry that it was to this one.

When Nick Wolfe made it to the scene he was horrified to see that some immortal had the boy for whom he'd been searching on his knees and appeared to be contemplating taking his head. Nick drew his gun and yelled, "Hold it mister... or I'll plug you and then we'll see who takes whose head."

Phillip turned to observe the young one. "This boy does not need your protection. He's just as likely to take your head as thanks for your saving his life." He casually laid his blade on his shoulder... still drawn... still ready. "Besides... you can't interfere. The rules... or do you know the rules?"

"Just put that down..." Nick continued, circling slowly about the stranger. He glanced down at Kenny who appeared to be recovering. The boy eyed both immortals hatefully.

"I'm Nick... come with me..." Nick motioned to Kenny with an invitation of his fingers. His gun was still aimed at Phillip.

Kenny glanced at the "Swordmaster" and grinned... he'd had his chance... now it was Kenny's turn. He nodded fearfully... oh so fearfully... and innocently at Nick then grabbed his sword. In one movement... he lifted it... rose and lunged at his rescuer.

Almost with a sense of boredom... Phillip lifted his own sword off his shoulder and blocked Kenny's downstroke toward the young immortal. The boy snarled at Phillip and then continued his turn... trying to get beneath Phillip's guard... trying to get through to his target. He failed. Almost regretfully, Phillip impaled him once more and raised his sword for the final blow. Nick's gun shook in his hands and he lifted one hand to his own neck... rubbing it... and watched as the boy's body hit the dirt. Phillip glanced over at Nick and then leaned over, picked up Kenny's sword and tossed it to Nick. "I think I'll let you have him. You look like you could use the experience."

Nick caught the sword and looked at it. Then he tossed it once more on the ground. "I don't hunt children."

"I assure you young one... that one is no child. But... if you wish him to live..." He glanced at Nick and shrugged. "Fine by me, but... if I were you... I don't think I'd leave that sword with him." Kenny was already starting to stir. "Think I'll be on my way."

"I don't think killing children is very sporting." Nick called after the departing immortal. 

"Even when you're unarmed and they come running at you like that?" Phillip paused and asked Nick. "Do you even own a sword?"

"He was a child!"

Phillip chuckled. "Well... it's your head..." He shrugged and replaced his own short sword into his coat. "Now I really hope we don't have a problem here. I have things to do and this little episode has delayed me long enough. Can you manage?"

Nick re-holstered his gun and looked around. No one appeared to be in the area. I'm Nick Wolfe..."

"Of course you are."

"And you are...?"

"The fabled 'Swordmaster' of Alexander the Great!" Phillip's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Really?"

Phillip paused and grinned at the young one as he chuckled, "Really... I've been retired for centuries... but I do still have a few skills at my disposal." He took a deep breath and smiled genially. "Now I really must get to church."

"Church... what church?" An apprehensive dread came over Nick.

"Oh... just an old church up ahead... a friend of mine was priest there for many years." Phillip turned to continue on.

"Does your friend have a name?"

Phillip paused once more to eye Nick warily... "His name was Darius."

"I think I've heard Liam speak of him."

"Hmmm... now would that be Liam Riley?" Phillip smiled when Nick nodded. He thrust one arm about the young one and pulled him along with him. "Then we are brothers young one... any friend of Liam Riley's is a friend of mine... unless you want to bring him with us, we'll just leave young Kenny to the ministrations of those who might be watching." He threw back his head and laughed. Life was glorious!

***

At Darius' church... Phillip nodded at Liam and then gazed down at the tiny Valeraine. "Do we have a problem lass?" he wanted to know.

"Not with me, Swordmaster, I learned my lesson long ago." She bowed slightly at him and then retreated. Valeraine would not challenge him again... ever. Even drunk that man could slice her to ribbons and she knew it. Sir Edmund had also warned her against ever challenging the Swordmaster.

Liam shook his hand... "Gerard how good to see you again. What brings you to Paris?" He'd run across this one centuries ago... before he'd become a priest. They had shared tales and drinks once long ago.

Phillip looked around. "Just doing a favor for our old friend..."he murmured absently. He walked past Liam and into Darius' old cell. He looked about him at the re-arranged clutter and tried to visualize the room as it had been that last day... then he started over to a wall... pulled down a poster that Liam had hung there and pushed on a stone... another slowly grated open. With a smile of "gotcha" Phillip reached into the aperture and pulled something out. Quickly he placed it in his inside coat pocket, pushed the stone once more and waved farewell.

"Can't stay lads... got a plane to catch... people to see... tales to tell." And he was gone.

Nick and Liam looked at one another and laughed. "Now you will tell me just who the hell this guy is." Nick said. "He said something about Alexander the Great on the way over here... oh... and by the way Val... I ran into that boy you were so concerned about..."

Val nodded. "So he is here. Did you take his head?" When Nick shook his head, she shrugged, walked over to him and clasped his hand. "Ah well... perhaps another time. I'm a little hungry Nick... do you think you could take me to dinner. I'd like to discuss hiring you to help me find my companion."

Nick looked nervously at Liam who was suddenly busy pushing stones about the office. "Will you be joining us?"

Liam glanced at the two and chuckled, "Oh... maybe for a while. Still... perhaps it's safer if all three of us do go to dinner together. If Kenny's lurking about... none of us is likely safe on our own." He glanced around at the walls of the old church and smiled. He could search later. Surely there were more here... and he would find them all. One of these days... he'd find all the old secrets!


	41. 41

****

Chapter 41

Seacouver

Duncan stirred slightly in the chairs. They'd convinced Joe to take the couch in his office. He'd tried to refuse and get Ellie to take it but she had grabbed a throw and curled up on the floor in his office. Duncan and Methos had settled into chairs in the bar... although as Duncan rose after a fairly sleepless night with thoughts of brewing some coffee on his mind... he noticed that the older immortal had ended up on the floor in the office next to Ellie. She lay curled in a ball in Methos' encircling arms.

Methos raised his head slightly and glanced up at MacLeod who mouthed something about coffee, then lay back down beside Ellie. She snuggled against him. He'd heard her whimpering a bit in her sleep during the night... but she had seemed to settle down once he was next to her. He stroked her hair tenderly and sighed... so many years lost... so many lives... so many chances. Sometimes she left... sometimes he did. Neither one of them had been ready for more than that, yet... somehow they kept meeting up and giving it another try. He kissed her hair and then withdrew his arms from about her and rose to join MacLeod for coffee.

"What's the plan for the day, Methos?" the Highlander asked darkly over his coffee.

Methos shrugged, "Eleanor and I have to put in an appearance at Social Services for that interview... What's next will depend on that. You should take Joe home. But keep an eye on him or get him to call the Watchers.... That reminds me..." Methos asked for MacLeod's cell and quickly dialed a number... He gave an identity and some codes and then asked how Tim Wyatt was... after listening to the reply... he grunted and hung up... returning the cell to MacLeod. "Tim's holding on... some improvement... still guarded."

"And you say you don't care."

"I don't!" But Methos smiled a bit.

Ellie still wrapped in the old throw soon joined them. "I smell coffee..." Duncan poured her a cup and watched as she downed it quickly. She shuddered and smiled. "Sorry... old habit!" and held her cup out for a refill. This time she settled on the barstool and sipped slowly.

"I need a shower and a change of clothes before that interview," she said to Methos. He nodded and said something about breakfast and shopping at their hotel. She groaned, "I hate shopping."

Duncan chuckled, "Amanda would jump at the chance for new clothes."

Ellie eyed him with amusement and snorted, "Well she would... but I'm not Amanda!"

"No... but you do need some new things... that little ensemble you were wearing when you got back to London was thirty years old..." Methos teased.

"Hey... it worked didn't it... got you right where I wanted you..." Ellie and Methos laughed at some private joke. Then she sobered and remarked thoughtfully. "And I used to tease Darius about not getting new clothes!" She glanced up at MacLeod as if realizing he likely had no idea what she was referring to. "Did you know he used to move about Paris in disguise?" she asked.

Duncan shook his head, "There appear to be many things I didn't know... perhaps you'll enlighten me."

Ellie's eyes seemed to glaze over a moment. She took a deep breath and then smiled to herself as she sipped at the coffee once more, "Perhaps..."

Joe walked stiffly into the room. "Do we have anything left to eat around here? Or just coffee?"

"I think you and I will head out to get some breakfast after while." Duncan offered.

"You think it's safe?" Joe glanced up at the muted TV news."

"Whether it is or not... we can't stay holed up here any longer... not if we're going to find this guy!" Duncan said finishing the coffee. He poured another cup... then considered brewing a second pot. "And I for one... want to find him... before anyone else dies."

Joe sipped at the coffee and smiled at Ellie. She seemed quiet this morning and deep in thought. Worried he ventured, "Sleep well?"

"Mmm... your floor's fine. Very hard... I like hard floors!"

Joe set the cup down and took Ellie's hand, "You owe me a dance before we go." She nodded. He led her over to the jukebox and put in a coin. He punched a button and as the strains of an old tune filled the air. He held out his hands to Ellie. 

Eleanor laughed at his choice... and nodded. "You lead." she whispered and bowed slightly. It was the same piece they'd once danced to so many years before. With a smile she took his hands and they danced slowly to the music.

"Now what's that about?" asked Duncan.

"I haven't a clue." Methos answered and gazed at them. He'd always told Eleanor to have a life... and he'd tried to never be jealous. She had known many men... but he'd seldom known her to really love any of them. True... when he'd realized how much she had cared for Darius he'd been a bit jealous... and when he'd first realized that Joe was the mortal she might once have considered loving... jealousy had reared its head once more. But Eleanor wasn't his. She belonged only to herself... he'd set her free long ago to find her own way. Whatever choices she made for her life were hers to make. He had to be content with that.

When the music ended... Eleanor kissed Joe slightly. "So what does that leave us?"

"A ballgame... a pizza... your life story." Joe grinned.

"Mmmm... later... I promise." She pulled away and said to Methos. "Ready to go Methos?"

"Absolutely..." Methos rose and the two of them waved goodbye as they left.

Joe smiled thoughtfully after them and sighed. "She is something! I wish I were still in my twenties!" He glanced up at MacLeod. "I've never wanted to be one of you guys... I treasure my mortality too much... but I do wish I were young once more and had more time." He returned to the bar. "Now you said something about breakfast?"

Duncan nodded. Well... that second pot of coffee apparently wasn't needed after all.

***

Surprisingly, the interview with Social Services and Eleanor's pre-arranged cover story seemed to go over well. Even the federal agent who had the case seemed to vaguely recall some of the fictitious events. As a result... once Derrick arrived to run eagerly into Eleanor's arms the matter seemed concluded.

"You still need to keep in touch... we need to be certain about his status and there will be a court date..." Felicia Washington had droned on and on about the conditions. Eleanor and Methos had meekly nodded. They agreed to everything... all the conditions... the main thing was to get Derrick into their custody and out of there.

Several hours later... they made it back to their hotel and into the suite they'd rented when they'd first arrived. Derrick was entranced immediately by the cable TV and was surfing through stations looking for something to watch. He finally found some cartoons and settled contentedly on the floor.

Eleanor went into the other room to change and Methos pulled out his laptop and started surfing and hacking his way into databases looking for any trail this Peter Taylor may have left. For a man who did not seem to mind them knowing who he was... he seemed to have been very careful to hide just where he was. Methos shook his head... he still couldn't clearly place the man... nor could he figure out why... other than some sort of frustration the young immortal might have with what had happened in San Francisco in 1900... why it was this man seemed so obsessed. And why with him... Methos had evidently tried to help the young man and send him on his way... and he didn't recall giving him the name of Adams at the time... he wasn't even certain he'd been using it then.

Methos glanced up as Eleanor emerged from the other room... once more in jeans and T-shirt. She'd replaced the flats with hiking shoes. She was dressed to bolt if necessary... or dressed to fight... although Methos knew she could manage it no matter how she was dressed. He watched as she stretched and limbered up... Phillip's teachings once more coming into play.

Eleanor gave him a brief smile... then settled on the floor with Derrick to watch the cartoons. They chatted about the plot and made snide remarks about some of the voices. Methos shook his head... this whole scenario was getting a little bit too domestic for him. He shoved the chair back and went into the other room to get the great sword... time to get some answers.


	42. 42

****

Chapter 42

Derrick handled the great sword tentatively. He swung it about a little awkwardly then glanced down at Eleanor still on the floor. She grinned at him. He looked over at Adam and shrugged. "So it's a sword... what's the big deal." He handed it back to Adam.

"Thought it might interest you," the man asked. "Wouldn't you like to have it?"

Derrick shrugged, "Not really... it would be kinda awkward to go about carrying a sword these days. A little bit silly. Now learning to fence might be cool. But that thing's kinda heavy... especially for me. It's almost as tall as me." He turned to Eleanor. "I'm getting hungry... could we order a pizza?"

Eleanor glanced at Methos and shrugged... "Sure why not... I think pizza's on the room service menu." The sword had no power over the boy... but was that because he was pre-immortal or was there truly something there.

Methos nodded and placed the great sword back in its case.

Even as Eleanor was ordering the pizza... Methos felt the tingling sense of an immortal at the door. Then he heard three quick raps... a pause... then two more. He glanced at Eleanor. "Phillip."

Eleanor nodded with a grin and changed the order to two pizzas... and some beer in addition to the soda she'd already ordered.

Methos carefully opened the door and Phillip slipped in. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too old friend... Little Sister..." he gave Eleanor a big bear hug and then turned to meet Derrick. "So you're the young man creating all sorts of waves in our world?" He offered his hand to the boy.

Derrick shook the Greek's hand with an inquisitive look. "Do I know you?"

"We've never met boy... but I have heard about you from my friends." He glanced back at Methos. "Can you get my bags from the hall? I'd hate to lose anything? Now is there any food around this place?"

"It's on the way!" Eleanor grinned. Suddenly she was feeling very comfortable with all her friends around her... Phillip's being here was a real treat. "But why are you here? When I emailed you we were coming to Seacouver to get Derrick... I didn't dream you'd meet us here. What's going on?"

"Oh... something I think might help." He pulled a computer disc out of his pocket and handed it to Eleanor. "A gift from an old friend!"

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Darius' research?"

Phillip shrugged, "Don't know... just something he told me to give you some day."

Eleanor handed it to Methos who slipped the disc into his laptop. On it were scanned pages of document after document. "Where are the originals?" Methos asked as he scanned through the pages.

"Not certain but there's a key." He handed it to Eleanor. "I think to a lock box somewhere in Paris, perhaps?"

Derrick was suddenly very interested in the information coming up on the computer. He pulled up a chair to sit down next to Methos and began commenting quietly to him and pointing at things as they came up. The two were soon flying through the pages and conversing cryptically about what they were seeing.

Eleanor shook her head and turned to Phillip. "Now I know there's something there... Darius was always so obsessed with that stuff." She pulled the runestone from her pocket curiously. She handed it to Phillip... but why leave me this as a clue... you weren't his student."

"No... but you were... maybe he was just saying goodbye! And that reminds me..." Phillip pulled Eleanor's ring from his pocket and placed it in her hand. "I retrieved this for you... Somehow I just wasn't comfortable with the thought of you having it melted down... and that jeweler in Athens was rather relieved when I did so... it's very old gold... he didn't really want to destroy it... even though there doesn't appear to be anything special about it. But..." Phillip pulled out a small box and handed it to her. He smiled as she opened it and grinned in delight. Inside was their runestone... the one they had played for over the centuries... their personal prize. She lifted it out of the box by the chain. "Let me put that on you." He clasped it about her neck and kissed her cheek. "You look lovely my dear."

Eleanor gave Phillip a hug then went over to sit across from Methos and Derrick who were still obsessed by what they were finding on the computer.

"No... no... if you move that one next to that one..." Derrick said and pointed. The two of them were shifting the documents into a new overall pattern. Methos glanced up at Eleanor and smiled when he saw the runestone about her neck but his attention returned almost immediately to the screen and his continual shifting and moving of the pages.

Eleanor absently placed her ring on the index finger of her left hand... where she had once worn it... long ago... and contentedly watched the others. Behind them Phillip had picked up the remote and had settled himself onto the sofa surfing channels. Finally he found some documentary about insects in Africa to watch. 

***

Two pizzas, a two-liter of soda, and a six-pack of beer later... everything was still pretty much the same. Derrick and Methos were still on the computer... now discussing flipping or turning some of the images. Phillip was now watching something about World War II and the death of Adolph Hitler while Eleanor cleaned up the debris from the meal feeling that little had changed for her over the years. As always... her friends had their own agendas and interests... no wonder they'd come together for brief periods and then separated for long ones... perhaps that was the best way to keep a long term friendship alive. Somehow she thought that if they'd been in day-to-day contact with each other over the years... they would have truly ended up killing one another. Each of them needed to travel their own roads. 

Still... it was nice to have time together... to have even a moment of what mortals had. How she envied mortals! In their one life... they packed so much living into every moment. They had no time for long relationships that lasted for centuries... they could not see cathedrals through from cornerstone to ribbon-cutting... but they reveled in the time they had... they lived... they didn't just exist. She sighed... immortals might have long lives... but how many of them truly lived... how many of them would ever be remembered or leave behind them anything that was lasting and important. Somehow she doubted any of them ever would.

She stiffened slightly at the feel of a presence at the door and glanced at Phillip. Her teacher rose to stand at the door... his sword drawn and ready. Behind her... Methos too had looked up. Derrick was aware only that "Adam" had stopped the game they were playing...

There were two knocks... a pause... then one. MacLeod! Eleanor opened the door and let him slip in.

"Where's Joe?" she asked him.

"With the Watchers... they're in a meeting... thought I'd check on you guys. Hello Gerard... or is it Phillip?"

"Greetings Highlander... still bandying your name about to all you meet?"

"Sometimes." He shook hands with the Greek and then glanced over at the computer. "What's up."

"They're playing a game..." smirked Eleanor with a laugh! "At least that's how Derrick sees it."

"What is it really?"

"Something Darius left us... doesn't make any sense to me," remarked Phillip as he returned to the TV and flipped through stations on the remote... Not finding anything interesting... he turned it off. "I don't suppose we have any beer left? What about a mini-bar?"

Duncan leaned over the computer and stared at the swiftly moving and flipping pages. "What is that?"

"Neat game... huh Duncan... If we get everything just right... it'll all make sense." Derrick pointed and suggested another move.

"What he says..." Methos murmured absently and typed in another command... his fingers flying on the keyboard.

Eleanor chuckled at the expression on MacLeod's face, then moved one hand back and forth before his eyes. "I think it's caught another one," she said to Phillip. "And no we have no more beer... nor did this suite come with a mini-bar. You're on your own."

Duncan looked around at them. "Just exactly what is that stuff?"

"Just a disc with images of some things I brought Darius over the years... from my travels." Eleanor shrugged. She honestly didn't know what else to say. Then she handed Duncan the runestone as an afterthought. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yeah... it means student..." Then he noticed the other one on its chain about her neck. "And that one means friend. I have some of the others in Paris."

"Did you ever read them... the ones you have?" Eleanor asked thoughtfully. MacLeod shook his head... He'd just figured it was a batch of them and he'd put them away. "Maybe you should." MacLeod nodded. Then he saw the great sword.

Duncan's eyes focused on the sword... he could almost hear its wish to be held... to be used. It seemed to promise victory... power... knowledge... He reached for it.

"No... Highlander!" Methos grabbed MacLeod's outreached hand while Eleanor shut the case.

Duncan shook his head... the strange thoughts gone. He stared into Methos' eyes and saw understanding there. "What was that?"

"Something very old and very dangerous." Methos told him. "Leave it be... for your own sake... leave it be." 

Duncan watched Ellie's hand stroke the case. It moved back and forth over the top... her eyes closed... as if she could hear something. Methos turned when he saw Duncan's gaze and laid one hand on her shoulder... Ellie glanced up at Methos and gave him a weak smile, "I'm okay... it's not mine now... but it still calls." She backed away from the case and moved over to sit on the arm of the sofa near Phillip.

"Hey Adam... look at this!" From the computer Derrick's voice reclaimed Methos' attention. He slid once more into his seat at the keyboard and stared for a moment at the screen. Then the two of them began shifting images once more.

Duncan moved over to the sofa. "Tell me about the sword!" he said to Ellie. She glanced up at him and shook her head. "You said it was yours... "

"Only recently... and only for a little while."

"How recent?" Duncan stepped close to her, almost menacingly.

"And that thing begins to claim another of us!" Phillip piped in from the sofa. He raised the remote and once more turned on the TV. The set automatically went to a news channel. He decided to leave it there for the time being. He was intent on staying as far away from that damned sword as he could. Even now... he could still hear it beckon... and suggest to him just what he... the "Swordmaster" could do with that thing! No... best to find something else to concentrate on. He focused on the newscaster.

Ellie looked down at Phillip then up at MacLeod. She sighed. "I'm really not much of a story-teller..."

"Tell me anyway... I want to hear the truth for a change!" Duncan was tired of these evasions.

She nodded, realizing that he needed the truth. "It was never supposed to have come to me. But I interfered... and it did. I should have trusted Darius... I didn't realize at the time... it was his sword... the one he carried before Paris... before he... changed..."


	43. 43

****

Chapter 43

__

East of Dacia, last province of the Roman Empire

62 c. e.

Ulrich pounded the boy cowering in the dirt, "Take that back! Take that back!" His fists landed again and again on Torvic's head. The other boys stood about them laughing and urging the fight to continue. Torvic was several years older and heavier than Ulrich... but it didn't matter... the twelve-year-old was a much better fighter... and he had the advantage of passion in his blows! Besides... he'd spent time at his father's forge and although younger and smaller... he was the stronger.

Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder... a hand that felt as hard as the iron his father forged and beat into swords. Ulrich was pulled suddenly away from his victim. He tried to twist out of the grip that held him but couldn't. He looked up at just who had dared to interfere... and saw only some strange woman he'd never seen before. Once more he twisted... to no avail.

She eyed him calmly. In a glance he took in her odd traveling clothes that seemed to belong to no time and place... old they were and earth-colored. Across her shoulder was slung a worn leather bag. In her other hand was a great staff. Her dark, graying hair hung loosely about her head... and framed her face as if it were a great thundercloud. But it was the green eyes peering out of that face that caught his attention. He had never seen such eyes! They sparkled in amusement as she regarded him.

"My, my... aren't you the little warrior!" she said and then nodded at the other boys who scrambled away... eager to be free of any trouble that might arise from the fight. She still clutched Ulrich in her iron grip.

"Let me go old woman!"

"I think not... I'm looking for a metal-worker... is there one in this camp?"

"My father." the boy answered and spat at her, still struggling to free himself. Women were of little consequence or status to his tribe. They existed only to bear warriors for the battles yet to come.

"In that case little warrior... lead the way!" She released him and stood smiling at him. But to Ulrich... it seemed the smile of some predator who was toying with her prey.

He absently rubbed his shoulder... still throbbing from her grasp and jerked his head for her to follow him. He turned and walked proudly through the small encampment toward his father's forge. Once there, he sat down near the bellows and glared as his father turned toward the woman.

"I am looking for a sword," she said to his father as she leaned slightly on her great staff.

"Of what use would a sword be to a woman! Women don't use swords!" his father said.

The woman shook her head and took in a great breath. Then she flipped the staff around so that it came close to his father's neck and then halted a bare inch from knocking his father flat. "I did not say I needed a sword to use... only that I was seeking one. My brother lived in these parts for many years... he, too, was a metal worker. He had a sword... our... _father's_ sword. It is that which I am seeking."

Ulrich's father shifted slightly, unused to being threatened by anyone... much less a woman. "_Ja_... there was one here... I trained some with him... he was on the mountain when it fell."

"The mountain?" the woman looked about... "I see no mountain."

"It fell about a dozen years ago... in the great earthquake. I assume he died in it."

"Oh I'm certain he did..." the woman smiled. "You said you worked some with him... did you see a great sword." She whipped the staff about and away from his father's head.

His father nodded, "_Ja_... he even let me work out with it some. It was well balanced and had a sharp edge. I'd never seen its like before. Light-weight... not iron... but sharp."

The woman nodded, "That's the one."

His father shrugged, "It was likely with him when the mountain fell. It's probably buried with him. I have these however." Ulrich's father turned to show the woman his own handiwork. She picked several up and expertly examined them.

"Yes... poor imitations of the original... still... fine blades for this time and place." She tossed them back into the pile. Then she stared at Ulrich as if considering what to do next.

"I have need of a guide. Does the boy know the area?'

"_Ja_... he does."

"Then I will hire him to help me search."

His father laughed! "Search? There is nothing on that pile of rubble now. Just rocks and deep crevices... Besides, I need the boy here!"

She pulled an emerald of finest quality from her leather bag and held it up until the light gleamed through it. His father looked hungrily at the stone and licked his lips. "I can pay..." She tossed his father the stone. "... for the boy's services... for perhaps a ten-day... maybe more."

His father caught the stone and rubbed at it, holding it up to the light and then polishing it once more. He turned from her and absently waved at Ulrich to accompany her. As she arched an eyebrow, she smiled and beckoned to the boy. "Come little warrior. We have a sword to find."

***

Ulrich nibbled on a piece of black bread and glared at the woman called Anya. He regarded her with contempt... he was tired of this wandering around the rubble-strewn countryside. They would walk... she would ask questions... he would lead her to another ravine or pile of rock. At all of them... she would do what she was doing now... sit cross-legged in the dirt with her eyes closed. Then she'd get up and they'd start again.

She was clearly a fool! Did she think that just by sitting on the surface she would find this sword she sought? He and his friends had, over the years, dug for many treasures in the rocks and gullies... it took work... not staring off into the air. He finished his bread and stalked over to her. Anya looked up and met at his glaring expression with a look of amusement.

"Ahh... my little warrior is getting impatient... he wishes to find the sword and move on with his life."

"I just wish for this to be over."

Anya rummaged in her bag and pulled out two pieces of hard fruit. She tossed one to him and bit into the other... chewing thoughtfully. Ulrich turned the strange fruit over in his hand... then shrugged and bit into it... noting that it had a pleasant taste. He sat down beside her. "Why do you search for something that is likely lost and buried in the earth? If it's been there so long... it's probably useless. Iron rusts."

"Well... it is not made of iron... and it will not stay buried for long." she said cryptically.

"Why is it so important to you?" the boy continued.

She shrugged, "Well, it was my... _father's_... sword." She began, "I wish to see it in good hands once more."

Ulrich nodded. This he could understand. A good sword should be passed down from one war leader to another. It was the way of it. He finished his piece of fruit and threw the remains onto the ground. Anya spit the seeds of her piece into her hand smiled a moment and then tossed them to the ground as well. She reached once more into her bag and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.

Ulrich's eyes widened as he saw a great glowing crystal in Anya's hands. She stared into it for a long moment and then tossed it to him. He caught it and stared into it. His eyes widened at the picture within the stone and then he tossed it back with a shrug.

"What did you see little warrior?" she asked him as she re-wrapped the crystal and returned it to her bag.

"Me leading a great army some day!" he answered rudely as he stood up and walked some distance away.

"Really... then if that is your desire..." Anya also stood and made ready to leave. "Suppose we try that direction today." She pointed off to the right.

Ulrich nodded and led the way... determined not to tell her what he had really seen. It had made no sense to him... it was only a masked figure of a woman dancing about a bonfire. So he shrugged, determined to forget it... it was, after all, of no importance.

When they had reached the base of a deep ravine, Anya suddenly stopped and looked about sharply. She raced to some rocks and began pulling the stones away from what seemed to be a small tunnel or cave amongst the rubble. Ulrich almost laughed aloud.

"It would take a thousand years to dig through that... there's a better way!" He stripped off his cloak and belt and removed his tunic. The village children had been searching these small caves for years... He was an old hand at this. Sometimes they found small treasures... sometimes nothing at all. There were barrows of old dead throughout the area. And these old dead had been buried with many wonderful things.

Ulrich wriggled into the hole and slowly began to make his way through the tunnel. At his feet, he felt Anya quickly tie a rope onto one ankle. He ignored her... after all... he'd done this many times without a problem. He'd crawl in and once he got to the wide cave... he'd feel around for anything, then turn around and climb back to the light. A rope about one ankle seemed foolish. It would likely only get in his way... but he couldn't reach back to remove it.

He'd gone four or five body lengths... more than he ever had, when he noticed a soft glow before him. Instead of widening out... the tunnel seemed to constrict tightly about him... and the glow was further on. Finally he reached it. It seemed to emanate from a sword, held clasped in a gloved hand.

Ulrich pulled at the sword until it was free... then, since he could not turn around began to back up. In the pale glow of the sword... the hand began to flail. Then rubble fell about him as the tunnel began to collapse. He scrambled faster! The hand reached for him! He screamed in terror! Then he could feel the rope about his ankle being pulled. Still... he was not moving fast enough. The hand reached once more... even as rubble filled the tunnel and blinded him. The sword was ripped from his grasp even as he was pulled into the light.

Anya began looking him over... she actually seemed more concerned as to whether he was hurt than that he had lost the sword. He shook off her hands and dove once more into the tunnel. He dug through the rubble of the recently collapsed unnle. The sword was there! He grasped it once more and backed out with it in his grasp. Proudly he held it up for her.

In the light of day... the sword did not glow... but the metal almost gleamed whitely. Ulrich grinned at the expression on Anya's face. She was entranced by it. He handed it to her and watched as she ran her hands over it, then stood and expertly went into a set of moves... the likes of which he had never seen the men of his tribe use when they worked out with swords. Then she stopped... shivered slightly and lowered the sword. Anya gazed at him thoughtfully.

"What would you do with a sword such as this?"

Ulrich shrugged, "Same as I'd do with any sword. Kill my enemies. Defend my people."

"Defend your people?"

Ulrich nodded, "With my life!"

Anya smiled and looked down at the sword in her hands. "I had other plans... but somehow I think this sword and you were meant for one another." She tossed the great sword to him.

Ulrich caught it and tested it briefly in a few movements then looked up at her quizzically. "It's almost as big as I am... what makes you so certain my father would ever let me keep this?"

"You could hide it until you were grown. Then use it."

"I can use any sword." he said, "Why do you think I need this one."

"Don't you want it?"

Ulrich shrugged, "A sword is only a sword..."

Anya smiled and then clasped him under the chin, "Then keep it... and use it until you wish to give it away... it is yours as long as you care to wield it. No man will ever take it from you nor be able to use it against you. As long as you wield it... you will never die. Now then... let's get you back to your encampment... I have a long road before me... and new plans to make. You were certainly a surprise, my little warrior... a pleasant and most unexpected surprise."

Ulrich hid the sword and as he grew... learned to use it. When he awoke from what should have been a death in battle... he remembered Anya's words and believed it was the sword which had protected him. When he met the old immortal, who told him what he was and all about the game... he'd grinned in anticipation... He began a new life, taking the name of Darius and choosing to lead men into battle... Wishing only to sweep all life before him, he traveled west. 

When he met immortals in battle... they eyed the sword with a hungry glance. But Darius remembered always Anya's words... and none could stand against him... none could defeat him... and he knew he would be the one... because he would never die.


	44. 44

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Chapter 44

Seacouver

Duncan stared at Ellie as her words died away. He'd almost been able to see the events she had described. He glanced back at the sword case... once more thoughts of victory and killing filled his mind. It would be so easy to take the sword... and with it all their heads and with that power the prize was his! No one could stand against him! He shook his head and shivered.

"It's hard to resist... " Ellie said. "It tells you what you most want to believe... but it lies. It's seen too much blood and too much killing over the millennia. It seeks only death and destruction. None of us are safe... it calls to all of us."

"Even Darius."

"No... He never heard its call... to him... it was always just a sword. Even when he used it... it was just a sword."

"So he gave it to you?"

"No..." Ellie shook her head sadly... "Not to me... he gave it away long before I ever met him." Then she turned toward the TV and leaned back... lost in thought. Phillip absently clasped her hand as if in sympathy.

Duncan looked toward Methos and Derrick. The game... if that was what it was... seemed to have reached an impasse. The two were staring at the screen without comprehension. 

Methos rubbed his eyes and looked about. "I could use a beer and a break." He pushed back from the computer, rubbed Derrick's head playfully and motioned to Duncan. "What say you and I take a little walk." He stood up and headed for the door. "Phillip... keep your eyes peeled!"

Phillip raised one hand from the sofa and waved. Derrick went over to lie on the carpet in front of the TV, his chin in his hands. Phillip punched up a cartoon station on the set for the boy and said, "Bring me back some wine or even some beer if you get the chance... and don't be too long about it!"

Methos opened the door and held it for MacLeod, "Right... or you could call room service again. Eleanor... lock up behind us." The two immortals left the suite and Methos paused outside the door until he heard the lock click then led the way to the elevator and down to the bar.

They found seats at a table in a dark and deserted corner. MacLeod watched Methos down a beer quickly and order a second. MacLeod sipped at his.

"Do you have your _katana_ back?" Methos asked casually.

"No... it will likely be a few days... But I have Connor's."

Methos nodded, and leaned forward in the chair, absently rubbing his eyes... he was tired... so very tired... and he was no longer certain he was thinking clearly. Perhaps it had been an error to have brought the great sword here. They should have grabbed the boy and taken him to London... then given him the sword. But he hadn't wanted to leave it behind. It still called to him as it always had, no matter who held it. And since Derrick had refused it... technically it was still in his hands... and its voice was louder... more insistent.

"Any news on Taylor?"

"None!" Duncan sipped his beer once more. "So tell me about that sword. That is why you brought me down here... isn't it?"

Methos nodded.

"Did Darius give it to you?"

Methos shook his head. "He offered it to me... but I refused it. I wanted it... more than I ever wanted anything... but I didn't like what it wanted me to do. So I left him with it... on two separate occasions. The one time I did carry it... I did so to save another of us from its insanity... and by that time... I knew how to wield it and how to ignore its voice... at least most of the time." Methos smiled, and stared bleakly at Duncan over his beer. "Even then I killed for pleasure... although mainly mortals. I was happy to be rid of it. Now Eleanor gives it to me once more and I take it only to protect her." Methos lowered his face into his hands. He was so tired.

"Methos... you're not making much sense... tell me everything about that sword! Everything you know! And how does it play into this business with Taylor!"

Methos shook his head, "It doesn't... at least I don't think so... Unless it's tied into her madness somehow. We brought it because we were curious how it would affect Derrick."

"And...?"

"It doesn't. But once more... we have no idea why or why not. But he seems as uninterested in it as Darius apparently was."

"When did you first see it?"

"About a thousand years after leaving the horsemen... I've always been thankful I'd left that life behind before first seeing that sword. I'd hate to think what I might have done with it then."

"What happened?"

"I traveled for centuries... listening... learning... surviving... Finally I arrived in what is now Paris. In my journeys I'd heard tales of an ancient immortal and wanted to meet him. I studied with him for a short time. He was unlike anyone I'd ever met. I asked him how to move beyond the darkness of the past and into an enlightened future. He said he couldn't help me with that because darkness had never touched him... but he knew someone who could and he sent me east... to an area north of what we now call the Black Sea. To make certain the other would see me... he gave me an old talisman. It worked... I met Kritis... "eldest of the firstborn"... at least that's how he styled himself."

"And this Kritis had the sword."

"Yes... I trained with him and he taught me many things. One day... we climbed high on the mountain and he tossed me the sword. Since the day I had first come... I had wanted it... I had longed for it as I had seldom longed for anything. He laughed and said it was mine... provided I took his head and then he laughed again... maniacally as if he knew that whatever darkness was still in him would overwhelm me." Methos took another sip of his beer.

"I've never liked being given ultimatums or in being maneuvered into situations... I don't know how I managed it... but I feared that if I killed him... I'd be lost. I threw the sword down and left... telling him he had nothing more to teach me. I went down the mountain, gathered my belongings and was some distance away when there was a quickening the likes of which I had never seen."

Methos glanced around at the bar patrons and then leaned close to MacLeod. "Lightning wreathed the mountain and the earth trembled with a great force and opened up! The mountain collapsed as if it were only a building made of sticks. I realized that Kritis was dead... Yet whoever had taken his head... had gone down in the aftermath of that death. I believed that sword was buried for all time in the earth and I left. I had no regrets about leaving it there."

"But it didn't stay buried."

"No... it didn't." Methos' eyes glazed over as he visibly recalled the day he had seen that sword once more.


	45. 45

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Chapter 45

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__

Mesopotamia 197 c.e.

Methos sat up suddenly as Phillip strode into their campsite overlooking the on-going battle between the Romans and the Persians. The Greek had insisted on going down to join the fight... just to keep his hand in. Methos... had decided that being in the midst of a battle might not be the safest place to be. Survivor that he was... he'd let Phillip go and he'd stayed behind.

It wasn't Phillip's return that had made him sit up... it was the sword in Phillip's left hand. The Greek entered the campsite and tossed his own sword down and then switched the sword into his right hand and expertly wielded the great sword... a sword Methos had hoped never to see again. Phillip's eyes were almost glazed over as he easily and fluidly performed move after move.

Then the barbarian arrived.

Methos felt him even before he'd entered the clearing. An immortal... and one evidently not at all pleased with Phillip. He stood at the edge of the clearing and glared at Phillip. In his hands was a Roman sword... He ran at Phillip at full attack.

Phillip swerved and slashed at the strange new immortal, then quickly disarmed him and strode away laughing.

"That's two swords I've taken from you... best you leave now before I take your head, too!"

"That's my sword you have and I want it back!"

Phillip tossed the Roman sword to Methos and brandished the great sword, "Come and get it you young fool!" Then he readied himself for a fight.

Methos feared for Phillip... and he feared for himself. That sword was dangerous! If the Greek killed an immortal with it... his friend might likewise be as lost and as mad as the long-dead Kritis. And then... would Methos be his next target? With a deft and oh so insistent tone to his voice, he tried to defuse what was most likely a killing situation.

"Why not have a drink with us until the battle is over. Once the fighting below is finished... there will be ample time for taking heads. Let me hold that thing while we drink... "

With the words "Have a drink..." the strange spell Phillip seemed to be under lifted. He shook his head and laughed, "Excellent idea Antoninus!" Phillip tossed him the sword, which Methos deftly caught. Phillip laughed heartily and slapped the stiff Goth on the shoulder. "First we drink... then we fight! No man should go to his death without a drink to ease his passing!"

Methos quietly placed the great sword within his garments, uncomfortable with it so close to him once more, and eyed the Goth evenly. "Might as well relax and have a drink... you'll not get your sword back any other way." He had no idea how this young immortal had ended up with the great sword... and he didn't care. What mattered most was protecting Phillip from its effects. The Greek was the best swordsman Methos had ever seen... and with that sword in his hands... he would never be defeated... Methos feared that somehow, the Phillip he knew, would be lost forever. and his own survival... that too would be at risk. But already he could hear it begin its seductive whisper... "_Claim me... Use me..._ "

The Goth paused... staring at both of them suspiciously but then gave a curt nod and settled down to have a drink from the wineskin Methos tossed him, "I'm Darius!" he said at last.

"You can call me Phillip and you can call my friend here Antoninus." Phillip said already at ease and playing genial host. "Now tell me Darius... how did you end up in this battle?" Phillip pointed at the battlefield below. "Surely you're not a Roman or even a Persian despite that name you give."

"I'm a mercenary." Darius said plainly... "I can't be killed... so I fight without fear."

"You fight... but you have no skill... no finesse in your movements." Phillip replied... then began to discuss fighting techniques.

By dusk... the battle had ended. From their perch, the three immortals could see the living moving like crows among the dying and the dead... dispatching both enemy and ally alike. Even from this height... the ground seemed red from the blood.

Methos shook his head. "Of what use is all this killing..." he turned away from the edge of the overlook and bowed his head. Thoughts of his own killing days consumed him for a moment... and the sword whispered that he should return to those days... he should raise the sword and kill all about him and glory in the power. Methos shook his head... letting the whisper of the sword bounce off him until it was only an angry buzz... like a gnat wanting attention.

Phillip slapped his friend's shoulder and laughed loudly, "My friend here doesn't see the glory in battle... he prefers to tend to the wounded afterwards. However..." Phillip winked at Darius, "He's a passable swordsman when he chooses to fight one of us."

Darius stared down at the battlefield as though he'd never before seen war from this advantage. Already in his mind he could sense how the battle should have gone... how the lay of the land should have caused the generals to make other decisions... use other tactics. He was intrigued.

Behind him he heard the Greek, "Well now... I suppose it is our turn."

Darius looked calmly at the Greek who tossed him the Roman sword and asked Antoninus for the great sword.

"Use your own Phillip..." Methos replied quietly, tossing the Greek his short sword. "Let the great sword be the prize." Methos sat once more on the ground and then reclined on one elbow. 

Darius and Phillip circled around one another... swords raised... carefully watching each other's movements... each other's balance and motions, each other's eyes. Finally they paused and assumed a stance... glaring across the clearing... ready for the fight... Darius nodded and attacked... Phillip parried and turned and backed up a step with a laugh... obviously playing with the young one.

Methos fingered the great sword beneath his cloak... fearful he would have to claim the sword and Phillip's head before the quickening he'd receive from the Goth had settled.

The combatants circled once more... their swords shifted and turned in their hands. Once more they eyed each other... once more they feinted and shifted... each trying to get the other to committ to an attack... to a movement which would leave them defenseless.

Phillip paused... while he did not drop his guard... he seemed to be considering something... and suddenly he opened his mouth and began to laugh... his basso voice ringing over the mountains. He dropped his guard and shook his head. Darius did the same... no longer certain as to what was going on here. "Let's just toss for it," Phillip finally said. "I have an unfair advantage over you and I find I rather like you. I'd hate to take your head if it's just over a sword."

Darius grinned, "_Anya's words were true once more._" He nodded.

They tossed the dice for it and Darius won. He reclaimed his sword... sheathed it... and was on his way down the mountain when he heard Antoninus say... "Rejoin us in a century or so... we'll have another drink." 

Darius glanced back at the two immortals and nodded curtly. After all... in a century or so, he might be good enough to take that pompous Greek's head.

**********

****

Seacouver

Duncan finished his beer. "You didn't want it then?"

"I did... I wanted it as badly as I had when I first saw it. But I knew if I kept it... Phillip would fight me for it... and he would win. I wanted to survive. So I let Darius leave with it. He didn't seem possessed of it... it was just his sword. I figured if he still had it in another century... I'd see if it had claimed him. After all... Phillip could easily defeat him... There was no doubt in my mind about that."

"But it didn't?"

"Claim him?" Methos shook his head. "No... in the end... the only thing that claimed him was whatever he learned from the Ancient in Paris. He was different after that. When I first saw him there... he offered me the sword and seemed saddened that I wouldn't take it. The next time I saw him... he only told me that it had passed into other hands. And that was that as far as he was concerned... at least until it and the immortal who had taken Kritis' head and from whom Darius had taken that sword came back for him and Eleanor got in its way. He hid it after that... but it was still her sword... until yesterday."

"And she would have killed him with it..." murmured Duncan.

"Perhaps... if she'd ever seen it again while he lived. She knew where it was... but she stayed away from it. She left it in his keeping... but the sword continued to prey on her mind. Darius refused to reclaim it... as though he wanted to die... as if he waited for her to take his head. If I'd known what sword she'd used... maybe I could have helped her sooner... helped him. But I didn't know until recently that it was that particular sword she'd wielded the day she first took an immortal's head."

"What was his name?" Duncan's voice was insistent.

Methos waved to the waitress and pulled off several bills. "Kae Dhun," he murmured, "His name was Kae Dhun." He paid the tab and motioned to Duncan to follow him. The two immortals walked out into the late afternoon sunshine. 

About them in the warmth and brightness of the day people about them moved on with their lives... oblivious to the darkness and terror which was consuming the immortals. If they knew anything... the passing mortals knew there had been a sniper shooting children yesterday... but he'd been caught. Life could go on... these events did not affect them... did not impact on their lives... did not change the way they lived... the way they worked... nor the way they walked in the afternoon sun.

"We need to check on Joe," Methos said after a moment's consideration of the passersby. Duncan nodded thoughtfully as they headed for Mac's car.

As he slid behind the driver's seat, Duncan said, "Besides... we can't stay locked up and hidden forever. I don't know about you... but I'm tired of all this. We need to draw Taylor out somehow... and deal with him." 

Methos nodded his agreement as Duncan started the car. Yes... they needed to finish this... they needed to move on... they needed to solve the puzzles of the past and this Taylor business was only in the way. Methos closed his eyes and slumped down in the seat... in his mind... he visualized the shifting documents of Darius' research... The answer was there... he knew it... but he couldn't focus on it... he couldn't see the solution. The final pattern remained elusive... just as elusive as Aja's symbols had been for so long. Even that answer did not seem to apply here... _Now and for all time... all are one... all are one!_


	46. 46

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Part Three

__

Answers

********************************************

Will you find the answer

in all you say and do?

Will you find the answer

in you?

__

~from "Pilgrim", lyrics by Roma Ryan

*******************************************

****

Chapter 46

Seacouver

Daniel M'Benga tipped the bellhop generously and closed the door behind him. Finally... he was here. Under his arm were a number of newspapers he'd picked up in the lobby and already he was searching for the remote to the TV.

There had been several deaths in yesterday's attacks. He scanned through the information all the while keeping an ear on the news. When a reporter broke in with names and photos of the dead... four at the school... a couple who were parents of one of the surviving children... and two in the park, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The boy lives! Now to locate him! Taylor had been a fool to start this... but perhaps it would work out after all. M'Benga reached for the hotel phone... he would need to make some calls... Some that would and should be traced... after all he would have nothing to hide... he had no connection to any of this... Others he would make from his cell phone... those would hopefully help him locate MacLeod's young protégé.

***

Peter Taylor turned his cell phone off and thought about tossing it into the river. The boy still lived... so did the man who had accompanied MacLeod to London. Only the secondary targets had been hit. And... his people had lost sight of all the principals. He did not believe Adams was still in London... but Taylor had no idea where he might be. Hopefully the killings would bring him back here. The woman had not been sighted since Paris. He did not think she was important... still, he wanted to know where she was. He hated loose ends.

MacLeod had been arrested and released and then had managed to disappear. By the time Taylor knew of this and had sent a new man to the bar he had frequented when first returning to Seacouver... no one was there and the place was locked up tight as a drum. He needed to put someone on the place... figuring MacLeod and possibly Adams might show up there. If the old man did... his man had new orders... contact Taylor immediately for instructions.

Taylor tossed the cell into the river. Time to move on to the next phone. He pulled an unused new cell out of his coat pocket and began to make a new set of calls... one to Geneva. He was going to have to tell M'Benga that there might be a delay in positioning MacLeod so that M'Benga could take his head.

***

Joe Dawson sat in the conference room at the Northwest American Watcher Offices and listened as several of the main council argued about their next step. On the big screen, seven talking heads vied for attention. Each argued an agenda and none of them seemed too happy.

"These attacks on our people must stop. This immortal must be eliminated!"

"Leave him to the immortals he's after! We are not to get involved. You remember what occurred last time we decided to get involved."

"Juong's right... we are to Watch... not interfere. If we interfere... for whatever reason... no matter how noble or righteous... we may seriously harm those whom we watch!"

Joe shook his head as the arguments continued. Somehow this "newer, friendlier, Watcher Council" seemed doomed. He had opened Pandora's box when he'd first broken the rules... now Tim Wyatt lay in stable but critical condition in a London hospital and over the last several years... countless others, many he'd thought of as friends, were dead. He lowered his head and rubbed his forehead with one hand. No one was blaming any of this on him... on his relationship with MacLeod and a few others... but maybe he was to blame. What if he'd never talked to MacLeod after that first meeting so many years ago. What if... No he couldn't think like that.

"This is useless... dammit!" The arguments of the others ceased as Joe slammed his cane onto the table. "We can argue amongst ourselves until more of our people are dead or injured or we can agree to disagree about the implications of what we decide and just work with MacLeod and his friends to get this guy. They want him too. MacLeod especially! Do we share what information we gather... or do we continue to just sit and watch! If we sit too long... our whole damn world may be gone!"

Around him there was only silence. Finally, from the London screen Dr. Amy Zoll spoke up, "Joe... how is Methos involved in this?"

"Taylor says its Methos he wants... except he doesn't know it's Methos."

"Then I say we help. Methos is too important for our project to lose. If we are ever to learn anything about the origins and purpose of the immortals in our world and its history... he may well be the key."

Her words were followed by another long pause. Everyone knew how much time Dr. Zoll was putting into the Methos project and in attempting to recreate the records that the immortal had stolen from them.

"You know Amy..." Joe said quietly, "if you'd pull your people back from him and give him some space... he might open up to you some."

"As he does with you?"

"I really haven't learned that much from him... and even less since your people started camping on his doorstep. He's about ready to bolt... and if he does... we may lose him forever... or at least a few hundred years! I don't know about you people... but I kinda doubt I'll be here then."

"Perhaps," said Juong, "If you'd leveled with the rest of us years ago... we might have been able to contain him while he was with us."

"You mean imprison him!" Joe shook his head. "These aren't lab specimens or guinea pigs... they are people! Just like you and me!" he raised his hand to continue over the objections. "They may live longer... but essentially... we are all the same. If you people can't see that... maybe I should leave..." He pushed his chair away from the table and, leaning on his cane, stood and walked toward the door. They could only kill him once he thought... and right now... he no longer wanted to associate himself with them. The door was blocked preventing his exit. He turned back to the table.

"Sit down Dawson. No one's wanting you to leave. We're just worried. After all... you were one of the targets yesterday." 

"Joe, please... you are our link to MacLeod and to Methos. If we are to work with them... we need you too."

Joe nodded... but he decided to remain standing... at least for now... as the council attempted to come to a decision about their course of action.


	47. 47

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Chapter 47

When he saw Joe exit from the office building, Duncan nudged Methos. The elder immortal had slouched down in the seat to catch forty winks. Neither of the men had slept much in the past two days... but Duncan had not, at least, endured a transatlantic flight accompanied by jet lag.

A pair of Watchers accompanied Joe. Duncan shrugged and exited the car to walk over to his friend. Methos slouched even further into the seat. They needed to talk to Joe... but he himself was not eager to expose himself to Watcher eyes again. He had Eleanor, Phillip, and Derrick to consider. If the Watchers started following him again... their activities just might alert Taylor to the location of the others.

Joe glanced up as he saw MacLeod approach, "Mac!" Joe motioned to his "bodyguards" to stay where they were and walked over to his friend.

"They watching you, now?" Duncan asked.

"Yeah... protective custody... they want me in a safe house until this all blows over."

"Won't work... we need to draw Taylor out. We figure _Joe's_ is the place he's still watching... waiting for one of us."

"Yeah... we put a team there to keep an eye on the place. So far nothing."

"Pull your people off."

Joe almost argued, then realized MacLeod was probably right. He and Methos needed to move freely... and Ellie and the boy needed to be safe. He nodded. "I'll tell them to stand down... They won't like it... but I think I may still have some pull left."

"Thanks Joe," Duncan gave his friend a brief smile and a small squeesze on his arm. "Give me the keys... Methos and I will deal with this."

Joe reluctantly gave his friend the keys. "Maybe I'd better go with you..."

Duncan shook his head, "Too dangerous... and you are not expendable. Stay out of it Joe. Let them put someone else on me for the time being if they must. But you stay safe. I don't want to lose another friend to this maniac." Duncan turned away sharply and headed back to the T-bird.

Joe watched him leave. Everything in him wanted to follow... but MacLeod was right. It wasn't safe... they... the immortals... needed to deal with Taylor. As the T-bird drove off, Joe nodded to his people and they headed once more for their own car.

***

It was pure luck that Marvin Grant had seen Adams in that black T-bird when it pulled up next to him at the light. Grant had simply glanced to his left as the car stopped... and had realized that here was the man Peter Taylor was burning up the phone lines trying to find. He had returned here after all.

Grant had returned to Seacouver after New York... but he was still on Taylor's payroll. He'd been told just to keep his eyes peeled. Now... he had lucked out. Bonus time! Grant had smiled at the thought.

He had followed the car to where it had parked outside an office building. Grant pulled into a nearby lot and made a call. He reported on what he saw... nodded at his instructions... and smiled in anticipation. He was now a major player in this caper. When the car with the old man in it pulled out... he followed it.

***

After three hours hanging around _Joe's_ both Methos and Duncan figured it was a waste of time. Evidently no one was watching the place. Some of the bar's regulars showed up and were disappointed their favorite blues joint was closed for another night. They left.

"We might as well go home. Perhaps tomorrow we can draw him out." Duncan stood to leave.

"You can drop me back at the hotel... but let's take a long drive first... just in case." Methos remarked as he finished off a beer. Duncan nodded and the two left.

"You said twice..." Duncan began as they drove north.

"Twice?"

"About that sword... when was the second time?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not likely." Duncan smiled. "Besides... we have some time to kill before I drop you at the hotel."

Methos shook his head, "You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes MacLeod."

"Don't I know it... now don't change the subject."

"The next several times Phillip and I ran into Darius... the sword was never a factor. Once he reclaimed it... it stopped preying on our minds. It was just a sword. We'd run across one another over the years... have a drink... play games of chance... tell stories..." Methos shrugged. "You know how it is with meeting old friends."

Duncan nodded. "So you were friends after that first time."

"Eventually... yes."

"What happened?"

"Paris happened..." Methos' voice took on an odd quality.

**********

__

Paris 411 c.e.

As the quickening died away, Methos stared at the kneeling form of the victorious Darius. The Ancient's body had fallen to dust... so old was he that nothing remained once his power had been transferred. Darius slowly struggled to his feet and glanced about... sensing the presence of another.

"Grayson?" he called.

Methos slowly walked towards the man he had begun to consider a friend... the man who had just killed the oldest of those who remained... 

"Antoninus?" Darius asked, using the only name he knew Methos by, "What are you doing here?"

Methos shrugged, "I was visiting an old teacher..." he glanced about the area... trying to see if anyone else was about.

Darius looked down at the sword in his hand as if it no longer belonged there. He held it out to his friend. "Take this... I no longer need it."

Methos stared at both Darius and the sword. Once more, as long ago when he'd held it... thoughts of power filled his mind. Then he shook his head, turned and walked away. "I don't want that thing... I've never wanted it. Keep it..." He reclaimed his horse and rode away. There was nothing here for him any more. No answers... no revelations of the past he could not quite remember... nothing. And he feared he had lost a friend.

**********

****

Seacouver

"The next time I saw him, he'd given it away. About a century later it re-surfaced in Britain. Once more I chose to walk away... leaving it for others to deal with." Methos looked over at MacLeod, "Understand MacLeod... I don't like being used. I don't like being a pawn in someone else's game. I hardened my heart against that sword until its call bounced off me with no effect. Even when I did take it for a short while... I did so only to grant another some measure of peace... then I gave it back."

"Who?"

"No one you know or have ever heard of. Someone who's been dead since before you were born."

"Tell me anyway!" The insistent tone of MacLeod's voice indicated nothing but the truth would work now. 

Briefly Methos told him of Britain... of seeing the sword thrust into a stone and feeling it come loose in his hand... whispering for him to claim it once more. "I managed to ignore its call... I left it there... and a mortal entered history as a champion in my place." 

"Next you'll tell me that Merlin was one of us!"

"He was... he was older than me... but it was three more centuries before I knew just who he was... and just why he had waited there for me to claim that sword and take his head... there on holy ground... and I would have... I could have..." Methos closed his eyes. "I still might have later... but always there was Nin... Nimue... Her silence haunted me... Once she fell victim to the sword's call... an Ancient thing with no conscience and an overwhelming need to protect the man she loved... the man who would not hold a sword..." Methos shook his head. "In many ways... once Eleanor claimed that sword centuries later... once she used it to save Darius... it was Nin all over again... and Nin became a part of her in ways we may never truly understand... "

"What about Darius and Eleanor?" Duncan's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"Give it a rest MacLeod..." Methos said wearily. The car pulled up at the hotel. "Call me tomorrow... we'll figure out another way to draw Taylor out." Methos exited the car and walked swiftly into the hotel. His hands were thrust deeply into the pockets of his long coat... and his figure slouched slightly... giving the impression of no one of any importance... no one to pay attention to... to be wary of.

Duncan watched him go. He still wanted to know more... but another time. He drove off into the night considering not going home to his apartment... but decided perhaps Taylor would pick up on him there... and if he did... the Highlander smiled... Taylor was his.


	48. 48

****

Chapter 48

After Phillip let him back into the suite... Methos chuckled at the sight of a blanket thrown over two chairs like a tent. Within the makeshift tent lay a sleeping Derrick with Eleanor's Maglite lying beside him. Methos switched it off and looked over at Phillip once more stretching out on the sofa.

"He said it was like camping out," the Greek said.

"And you... are you comfortable?" Methos asked his friend.

"Just fine." He waved at Methos and then rolled over, facing into the sofa back.

Methos nodded and opened the door to the other room. In the semi-darkness he could make out Eleanor's sleeping form on the bed. He shrugged off his coat and removed his shoes before climbing in beside her.

She shifted in her sleep and curled up next to him. Methos kissed her hair, then let sleep overtake him. It had been a very long day.

***

When Methos awoke the next morning, he could see light at the edges of the blackout drapes and he could hear the low monotonous hum of the television in the next room. He was alone, but he could sense the others in the outer room.

Methos stretched and checked the time... 10:00 a.m. He rubbed his eyes and decided he needed a shower and a shave before making any further decisions.

He was drying off when Eleanor came in... grinned... and closed the door behind her leaning against it.

"Good morning sleepyhead... I ordered you some breakfast... it should be up in about half an hour."

Methos reached into his bag for clean clothes to pull on. "You've already eaten, I gather."

"Umm... huh!" Eleanor crossed the room and pretended to rummage in her own bag.

Methos dropped the towel and reached out to her pulling her to him. He let his hands tease up and down her back. Then leaned over and gave her a long kiss.

She stiffened and pulled away, "Behave yourself! We have guests!"

"Since when did that ever stop us..." he laughed and pulled her back against him to kiss her once more. She did not respond to his advance, but simply stood still. Then he kissed her forehead and let her go. She could be so damned irritating sometimes! He began to pull on his jeans. It was then that he noticed the ring on her hand. "I thought you were going to melt that down?" he asked a bit sharply as he pulled them up and then fastened them.

"I was... Phillip and the jeweler had other plans." Eleanor lifted her hand. "Don't get any ideas... I just put it on without thinking..." She looked at him sadly. "Nothing's changed Methos. Let's not make more of this than what it is... just a brief encounter... like always."

He nodded soberly and quickly finished dressing... roughly pulling on a sweater. "You washed the red out of your hair," he said curtly.

Eleanor ran the fingers of her left hand through the once-more dark hair. "Seemed like a good idea... in case we need to leave suddenly... be someone else. I still have more if I need it... or the wig."

"We need to find Taylor first," Methos answered as he left the room, once more burying his own feelings about them to whatever it was that she wanted. He hoped room service would get here soon. "Has MacLeod called?"

Behind him in the bedroom... Eelanor stood quietly for a moment twisting the ring on her finger. It had been a mistake to put it on. No one knew that better than she did. Roughly she pulled it off and tossed it into Methos' still open bag. Tears stung her eyes. She closed them and counted to five. Taking a big breath, she turned to follow him into the main room and halted.

For a moment she could almost hear Aja once more... but it was more a whisper of many voices... and the words made no sense to her. Slowly she knelt by Methos' bag and rummaged for the ring. Once it was back on her hand... the voices in her head ceased... all was calm once more... and right now... she needed the quiet calm of balance if she were to be able to keep Derrick safe. She could wear the ring for little while longer... no matter what it might cost.

***

Joe Dawson glanced up as a knock sounded at the door. Roger Paxton drew his gun and peered through the curtains. He relaxed.

"It's just Johnson... he's back from the store." He re-holstered his piece and opened the door of the safe house. A shot rang out and Roger dropped dead, his blood slowly seeping into the carpet from that single shot to his head. A second shot took out his partner before he could react and, as Pat Johnson also fell, the groceries scattered. 

Joe pulled his own gun.

"I wouldn't do that old man," the shooter said entering. "Today's your lucky day... the boss wants you... alive." He grinned as Joe lowered the gun. "Smart move..." the man continued as he confiscated Joe's weapon. "Now come along... you're my bonus money..."

Joe nodded... hoping someone was watching... someone who could let MacLeod know what had happened. He spared a sorrowful glance at the two dead Watchers, then let himself be led out the door and into a waiting van.

***

Peter Taylor smiled when he got the call. Finally... things were going smoothly. Adams and MacLeod would hear about his having grabbed the old man. To get him back they would meet with him... To save the old man... Adams would finally fight him. He'd allow MacLeod to take the old man and go... now to call Daniel M'Benga and let him in on the action. After all... he'd promised MacLeod's head to the older immortal. Of course when he took it... Taylor smiled... M'Benga would be momentarily incapacitated... Taylor's smile broadened... and then he would have them all.

When all was set... he called MacLeod's cell number... "I have your friend. I want Adams. Have him meet me tonight at the docks... and I'll let your friend go. I'll call later with the time and exact location." He hung up and tossed the cell phone away. Yes... this time... he'd have Adams! Nothing and no one would prevent him... Adams would come... Adams would face him... Adams would die!

***

MacLeod stared at his cell phone. "Damn!" He almost tossed the phone across the room... so angry was he. Then he stopped and took several deep breaths... reclaiming the calmness he knew he would need if he was going to save Joe. Finally he called Methos. "We have to talk... Taylor has Joe." After he explained what Taylor had said, he listened to his friend's reply... then hung up. Thoughtfully he picked up Connor's _katana_ and began going through his workout. If Taylor thought Methos or Adams was going to be his opponent... he had another thing coming!

A few hours later he entered the hotel. When he sensed an immortal in the lobby... he glanced up expecting it to be Methos or Phillip. Instead... he saw an old friend. MacLeod grinned and widened his arms in a friendly embrace... "M'Benga!"

The older immortal looked back at him... startled for a moment, then he too, returned the gesture, hugging MacLeod and patting him on the back. "MacLeod... you young barbarian..." he said in his native tongue, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here in town sometimes..."

"Ahh... we all live somewhere sometimes."

"What brings you to the states... I thought you were in Europe these days?" MacLeod asked... returning to English 

"Oh... some business only my presence could take care of." M'Benga said suddenly solemn. He gestured toward the restaurant. "Join me?"

"Any one I know?" Duncan asked releasing his old friend.

"Does all business have to be "our" business?" M'Benga winked and again motioned for MacLeod to join him.

Duncan hesitated. He knew that a great deal of the business Daniel M'Benga was currently involved in was slightly shady... but the man had always seemed honorable... at least where Duncan was concerned. The Highlander glanced at the elevator... uncertain as to whether to beg off or not. Duncan did not want to explain his reasons for being at this hotel. Nor did he wish to seem unfriendly. He indicated he'd join M'Benga for lunch... after all, the others were not expecting him quite so soon.

After ordering lunch... Duncan leaned back toward the table and asked, "So... how's the import/export business these days?"

M'Benga leaned back in his chair and shrugged, "A bit slow... but I hope to acquire a most precious item in the next few days. Something for which I have long searched."

"And that would be..." asked Duncan.

"No... no my friend," M'Benga shook his finger at him. "You too are in the business... I do not wish competition."

Duncan shrugged, "I'm more or less retired from that these days."

"Still... I think I will wait to show you what I have once I have obtained it." He grinned then... light flashed on his gold tooth. "But you will be impressed... oh yes... you will be impressed."

They chatted amiably over lunch... M'Benga had ordered salmon; not really being hungry, Duncan managed a chicken sandwich. Afterwards... M'Benga clapped him on the back in farewell and then left the hotel. Duncan thoughtfully watched him go... then entered the elevator and headed toward Methos' suite. This was a new wrinkle... and one they needed to consider in their plans.

Behind him, Daniel M'Benga climbed into a waiting limo and gave the driver an address. If MacLeod were at this hotel... he was visiting someone. Perhaps someone with a long lifeline... or the potential for a long lifeline. He called his aide... who'd remained behind in another set of rooms and asked him to make discreet inquiries... he'd be in touch. M'Benga settled back into the seat and smiled... perhaps he should have ordered shark for lunch.


	49. 49

****

Chapter 49

"Go fish!" Derrick grinned at Ellie. They'd found a deck of cards and were sitting on the floor of the hotel room playing. At the table Adam was on the computer. Derrick thought he looked awfully serious today. Ellie's friend Phillip was still surfing through channels... trying to find something to watch.

Ellie drew a card and giggled, laying down her entire hand. "I'm out!" Derrick tossed his hand down with a groan. She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him... then looked over at Adam. When she did so... Derrick noticed the sadness that came over her face. Something was going on. Something more than just someone out to kill him... He still didn't think the story Ellie had given the authorities was quite right... He had no memory of the things she'd told them... but it had been best to go along with what she'd said. He sighed at the thought of Ron and Betty... they shouldn't have died. They'd been nice people. At least, Derrick mused, Ellie and her friends seemed to know how to take care of themselves. He had a feeling that not just bullets would bounce off them.

He looked up at the knock at the door. It had to be Duncan. Ever since he'd called earlier... things had really gotten serious. Adam hadn't said much... but he'd declined to play that computer game with Derrick. "Maybe later," he'd said, "... maybe later." So Derrick had settled down to play cards with Ellie. She'd questioned Adam about the call... but he'd shook his head and not said anything. Derrick could tell Ellie, too, wanted to know what was going on.

Phillip opened the door and let Duncan in. Even he looked grim as he entered. Adam motioned him into the other room and shut the door. Ellie gathered the cards up and shuffled them. Then she glanced back at the closed door. She set the cards on the carpet and winked at Derrick... "I'll be right back." She rose and entered the other room... Derrick could hear some raised voices... speaking a language that made no sense. Then the three of them were quietly arguing... Then Ellie shut the door. Derrick looked over at Phillip.

"Best let them be lad... they've a lot on their minds."

Derrick nodded and shuffled the cards... carefully laying them out for solitaire. He wanted to get back to the computer game... but without Adam... he didn't seem to be able to make any progress. The puzzle remained still just beyond his comprehension... but the images teased at his mind. Derrick shook his head and concentrated on the cards.

***

Duncan sighed at the on-going argument. "Can we just stick to the subject?"

Ellie and Methos both looked at him with a pained expression but nodded. Duncan glared at both of them. Whatever was going on between them... he didn't care... what they needed to discuss was Taylor and Joe. Specifically... how to rescue Joe and then take care of Taylor. Blaming one another for allowing Joe to be kidnapped seemed pointless.

Ellie folded her arms and nodded. "But I'm part of this too. He may not yet know about me... that might surprise him."

"Phillip is the better fighter if we need..." Methos insisted.

"Phillip doesn't know Joe..." she interjected, "I do. Besides... I want Phillip here guarding Derrick." 

"I'd still rather you stay out of it!" Methos waved one arm and turned away.

"Both of you!..." The loudness of Duncan's voice caused both of them to stop and focus on him. "She's right Methos... Taylor may not be expecting her. We can use that. He'll be prepared for two of us... but not three."

Methos glared back at the two of them but accepted being overruled. "All right... how do we handle this."

"By the way... this may not mean anything... but I ran into an 'old friend' downstairs." Duncan began and told them what he knew about M'Benga.

"He's a bit of a pirate... some shady dealings." Methos told him. "I've never met him, but I did study his file once. He was in Geneva when I was there with Alexa." He glanced at Ellie. "I didn't want to take the chance of running into him there. He's never really been heavily into the game."

"Agreed... " Duncan replied, "he probably has nothing to do with this situation... but we need to consider that if he is involved... what is he after? If he's not involved... can we trust him to be of help if we need it?"

Methos shrugged. He looked over at Eleanor who returned the gesture. "I've never met the man. And I know as little about Taylor as either of you. He evidently had someone on me in Paris... but that could be since he had his people following anyone who left your place in London. I wasn't as careful leaving there as I should have been."

Methos glanced at the closed door. "I have an idea about just what we might do tonight... just how we might neutralize whatever Taylor's got planned." He lowered his voice and explained his thoughts to the others. Both Eleanor and MacLeod listened with growing anticipation.

***

Joe glared at Peter Taylor when he entered the warehouse. The immortal almost skipped a step as he entered and grinned broadly. He backslapped Grant and then told him to wait near the door. He rubbed his hands together as he regarded Joe's sitting form.

"Adams should be beside himself worrying about you... considering all the others."

"You should know he has no idea who you are or what you want." It was the right button to push.

Taylor's face twisted in anger and he grabbed Joe by the throat... seemed to think better of it and let him go. "He will... I will have my revenge on him. He will pay for what he did!" The words came out twisted and dark.

"Maybe you'd tell me just what it is you have against him?" Joe persisted. If he could keep the man off-balance... perhaps it would help.

Taylor paced back and forth. "What do you know about Adams... what is he to you."

"Just a drinking buddy." Joe quipped lightly. "He likes my music."

"He doesn't deserve friends. He'd a dirty yellow coward!"

"Why? Because he doesn't think you're worth fighting? Or because he doesn't think of you at all?"

Taylor screamed in to Joe's face, so loudly that his man jumped. "You know nothing about it! He might as well have killed them himself!"

"Killed who?" Joe asked quietly.

"My family..." Taylor's answer was barely audible. "The only family I ever had. He ran away... he saved himself and they all died. All but me." Taylor pulled away and began to pace back and forth. "He let them die... now I want to be certain all the people he cares about die... I want him to wish for death... I want him to beg for it... I want him to face me at last."

"So you attack anyone he's seen with? What about all those children? What about that one boy's foster parents? Have you really thought this through?"

"You were in London... you stayed at his house... "

"All those kids at that school... the teachers... What did they do?"

"I was only after the one he was with in the park... The one who looked at me."

"And the others?" Joe's mind raced a the implications of what Taylor had said. "_The boy had looked at Taylor? What did that mean? Duncan hadn't mentioned feeling anyone else about in the park that day. Nor had Methos. How had the kid sensed him?_"

Taylor shrugged, "Collateral damage. My man got a little carried away."

"And the kid's parents?"

Taylor smiled, "Just covering bases in case he wasn't at school. I wanted Adams focused on finding me. He's spent a lifetime avoiding me... I want him. And I'll have him... and my family will at last have justice!"

"Are their deaths worth more lives? What would your family say?" Joe pushed once more.

Taylor slapped the old man and screamed. "You know nothing! You pathetic old man! You're not worth my time!" He pulled a gun and stood pointing it at Joe's head. Then he seemed to reconsider it. He drew a sharp breath and lowered the gun. "I need you alive old man... otherwise... I'll have my hands full with Adams and MacLeod. I don't care about MacLeod... he'll leave with you. And Adams and I will at long last have our... _meeting_."

"_He doesn't realize I know what he is._" Joe thought. "_He doesn't realize I know about Mac and Methos either. He must not know about the Watchers. His attack on Tim was chance._" Joe said nothing else. To say much else might reveal that he knew too much about Taylor or the others.


	50. 50

****

Chapter 50

Taylor's call came at 10:00 p.m. By that time... MacLeod, Methos and Eleanor had already arrived at the docks and were awaiting final location. Phillip had remained behind to keep an eye on Derrick.

Once Taylor told them exactly where he was and just what was needed to get Joe out alive... Eleanor slipped out of the car and made her way to the warehouse by means of the shadows. MacLeod and Methos arrived via car at the entrance and carefully got out.

As he had warned them... Taylor had an armed man waiting at the door. As long as the two immortals didn't make any sudden movements... there would be no problem. Once "Adams" and Taylor were engaged in battle... MacLeod could leave with Joe... but not until then. Taylor had re-iterated. "I'm not interested in you MacLeod... just Adams."

"Can you take this bastard?" asked MacLeod as they got out.

"Unless he cheats..." Methos met MacLeod's gaze grimly. They both knew Taylor was going to cheat somehow... well they had their own "ace in the hole."

"Just get him for me... or disable him so I can have him!"

"Right!" The two immortals stepped toward the entrance... the armed man opened the door and let the immortals enter... then closed and re-locked it behind them. He'd been told to wait outside until Taylor gave him word that MacLeod was to be allowed to leave with the old man. Then he was to leave himself. Taylor had warned Grant not to interfere... not to stick around... just keep an eye out. Anyone else who showed up was expendable.

Within the warehouse there was a single spotlight... illuminating Joe's bound and gagged form sitting on a chair. Methos and MacLeod both drew swords and slowly moved toward Joe. They could sense Taylor's presence... but where exactly?

Taylor's voice rang out, "I could easily kill him... you could watch him die... but I need MacLeod to leave here... so this one lives... unlike those who died when you first left."

Methos answered, "I don't know you... why all this just to get me here? Why challenge me?"

"You _DO_ know me!" Taylor screamed. "You were there when they died! You ran away! You sat there and drank her lemonade and made conversation... but when trouble came you ran! You ran and they all died!"

Behind them... Duncan sensed Eleanor's arrival outside. He heard a slight scuffle and knew she'd taken out the gunman. Methos' face was creased in thought. He shook his head.

"I don't know what you mean... enlighten me." He met Duncan's gaze and nodded... he'd also felt Eleanor's arrival. "_Get Joe!_" he mouthed silently. 

MacLeod replaced his sword in his coat and removed Joe's gag. "He's insane Mac," the Watcher said.

"I know..." Duncan worked on Joe's bonds. Then pulled his sword back out and cut through them. Time to get him out of here. "Where's your cane?"

"I think he has it with him... he took it. Looks like you'll have to help me."

"Probably his way of making certain I couldn't interfere." Duncan helped Joe up and supported his weight on his arm as they walked slowly toward the door. Above, he heard Taylor tell his man to let them go. The door opened just as they got to it. Eleanor grabbed Joe's arm to free up Duncan.

"Do you remember me yet? West Texas? You came riding in all friendly like but you ran out on us! You left us all to die! Your friends followed you in and slaughtered us!"

From her vantage point, Eleanor saw Methos' shoulders sag slightly. He'd remembered something. Something he didn't feel good about. "MacLeod... get Joe out of here... Methos needs me now."

"But that's not the plan..."

"Screw the plan... I think I just figured out what this was about! If I'm right... he needs me... not you." Eleanor gave Joe's arm a squeeze and headed into the center of the room.

Duncan hesitated, but then realized the faster he got Joe to safety... the faster he could get back. They headed out of the warehouse toward the car. Halfway there... he remembered... _Ellie doesn't even have her sword with her._ They hadn't thought she would need it... she was just there to help with Joe. Duncan sped up as much as he could... worried that something was going horribly wrong.


	51. 51

****

Chapter 51

************

__

Powder Wells, Texas 1882

Lifting her skirts slightly, Eleanor stepped off the boardwalk and into the dusty street. About her, the wind blew little puffs of dust into miniature whirlwinds. Above her, the hot sun beat down from a cloudless sky. She blinked her eyes, wishing she still wore the smoked lenses she had worn for so long. Even after almost ninety years and a major quickening... bright light still pained her.

"Mary Ellen!"

Eleanor paused at the sound of the name she was currently using and turned with a practiced smile to greet Jessie Clayton. "Jessie... you are a sight for sore eyes. I was just now thinkin' 'bout you." Eleanor grinned at the young mortal girl... a wisp of a thing with brown hair and freckles.

"That dress is positively you! And you said you can't sew!" Jessie ran one hand down Eleanor's arm and looked appreciatively at the fine job her friend had done on the pale green calico dress.

"I can't... and if it looks good... why then it's because you helped. I'd never have finished it without your prodding." Eleanor laughed. For some reason, Jessie had thought it necessary that "Mary Ellen" make her own dress from that bolt of cloth rather than hire someone as she usually did. So she had patiently worked with Jessie... realizing that just perhaps... the mortal girl needed a friend and confidant in this dry and dusty Texas town.

"You must wear it to the church social Saturday night. I just know that young deputy sheriff would ask you to dance."

"Perhaps..." Eleanor teased a bit. "But he is not really my type."

"Of course he is... young... good-looking... honest... and has a job with a future." Jessie teased her friend back, "And he has been known to have his eye on you ever since you and your brother came to town. And speaking of your brother..." Jessie's face reddened beneath her freckles, "will he be coming to the social?"

Eleanor almost laughed aloud, then thought better at it. "Oh... so it's Phillip's presence at the social that mainly interests you? Now the truth is out... you only befriended me to get to him..."

"Oh pshaw!" Jessie giggled. "There's so few of us young folks in this town... I'd of been your friend anyway." She linked arms with Eleanor... "So where's you off to."

"Just the general store... I need to get some things for dinner..." Eleanor's voice trailed off as they passed the bank. She could sense another immortal in there. Noticing the horses being held in readiness outside of the brick building... she quickly led Jessie to the general store.

"Whyever are you rushing?"

Eleanor glanced back at the bank. "Just wanted out of the sun, Jessie. Let's go inside." She wasn't certain who was in the bank... but she did not want to be outside and exposed to view when whoever it was came out. Just as the two women reached the entrance of the store... shots rang out behind them and four men raced out of the bank... guns still blazing... and leaped on the waiting horses.

Pulling Jessie into the doorway, Eleanor watched the immortal turn his horse about in confusion as he evidently felt her. She shrank into the shadows of the store. Eleanor saw the scar down the right side of his face and bit her lip. She didn't know this one... but she had a very bad feeling about him.

He glanced over at the store and grinned. He saluted with his gun and raced out of town... following the others. Eleanor didn't think he'd seen her face... but he'd known she was there. And... she felt he'd be back.

She lifted her skirts and headed back into the street. She stared after him and then turned to run to the school.

"Mary Ellen... where you going?" Jessie called.

"To get Phillip!" Perhaps he knew this immortal. At any rate... he needed to know what had just happened.

Phillip glanced up at Eleanor when she entered the small timber-framed one-room schoolhouse. His sixteen students looked over at her but when he cleared his throat... they returned to their reading assignment. He walked over to her.

Eleanor's fingers flicked in Nin's silent language... the one she'd seemed to learn after that quickening in Paris... "Urgent... need to talk."

Phillip had learned over the years to understand the gist of this silent language. He didn't use it himself... but she had never insisted on his using it... just on his knowing what she was trying to say. He whispered to Eleanor, "What?"

"Bank robbery..." she whispered back.

"What has that to do with us... it's a mortal matter." He started to turn back to his students.

"Not when it's one of us."

Phillip froze and then slowly turned back. "Did he see you?"

"I don't think so... but he knew I was there."

"Anyone we know?"

"No one I'd ever met... but he had a distinctive scar down the right side of his face."

Phillip took in a quick short breath and held it.

"Phillip? Who is it? Someone you know?"

Phillip shook his head, "An old friend once mentioned such an immortal... asked me to keep my eyes peeled for him and then let her know if I found him... Here!" He tossed her the chalk.

"Where are you going?"

"To join the posse."

"But I'm no teacher."

"Trust me... you know far more Greek than they do." Phillip grinned as he left. Eleanor swallowed hard and looked at Phillip's class. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Suddenly she felt like those sixteen sets of eyes were filled with amusement at her obvious discomfort.

***

The bank robbery and the death of two town citizens cast a pall over the church social on Saturday night. The posse had returned, having no luck in finding Melvin Koren's gang. They'd likely moved on... in the last few months this gang had racked up quite a list of crimes. The wanted posters attested to that!

Phillip had said little else about Koren to Eleanor... just that it was a good thing she'd had the sense to not be in the street when he'd come out of the bank. If she had... it might not have gone well. As it was... he was already considering if they should vanish and move on. Their quiet little life in this backwater town was likely over. If Koren did come back... he didn't want to be here.

So Eleanor threw herself into the festivities... feeling it might just be the last time she'd see some of these people in her life. She danced with young deputy Cole and sipped lemonade with Jessie and blushed at the compliments from the town matrons on her dress.

She was talking with the pastor's wife when she felt someone approach. Glancing casually around, she sighed to see it was only Edward. _Now what had brought him to town?_ She handed Jessie her lemonade and took John Cole's arm. "Dance with me again." She used her most bewitching smile and threw herself into the reel.

As she came around once and made ready to grasp her partner's hands... she noticed that Edward had inserted himself into the dance and was taking her by the hand.

"What are you doing here?" she managed through clinched teeth.

"At the moment... dancing with my wife."

"I'm not your wife... or had you forgotten" They sashayed down the line and back.

"I haven't forgotten." He said... then bowed as he let her go and stepped back to his side of the dance.

Eleanor exited the dance and walked back over to the refreshment table.

Jessie cooed, "Now who is that?"

"Just some drifter with a fresh mouth!" Eleanor answered archly as she retrieved her cup of lemonade and sipped at it. Edward tipped his hat at her and left the area. She had a feeling she'd see him later.

John Cole walked over, "Sorry about that... I don't quite know what happened. Could we try another dance."

Eleanor smiled. "Absolutely!" But her mood had darkened. If Edward were here... he was probably off to see Phillip and then they'd likely leave. Not for the first time she wondered just how it was that for almost the last fifty years... one or the other of them kept turning up wherever she was. Within her... Kae Dhun laughed. "_They don't trust you my dear... you should kill them both... then go back to Paris and get the thief!_" She shook her head and ignored him... 

For a moment, Jessie thought she'd seen Mary Ellen's eyes flash ever so briefly... as if some lightning had been triggered.

***

Eleanor allowed John Cole to walk her home after the social ended and spoke demurely with him at the door. Then she'd allowed him to kiss her hand just before she left him. Once inside... she glared at both Phillip and Edward who were deep in conversation.

"So just why are you here? Did you send for him?" she belted out to both of them, tossing her shawl on the divan and approaching them both.

"No... I was just passing through... but when I saw you in town... I just thought I'd visit a while." Edward smiled. Somehow she didn't believe him.

"Since he was here I thought I'd tell him about that visitor we had a few days ago. See if he knows him..."

"Can't say as I do... but I have heard of Melvin Koren..." Edward sounded as evasive as ever Eleanor thought. When neither of them offered anything more, she stalked into her room and slammed the door. "_To hell with both of them!_"


	52. 52

****

Chapter 52

Eleanor continued to brush her long hair, dyed blonde for this life, as the anticipated knock at the door came. "Go away!" she called crossly and tossed the hair behind her. In the mirror... her eyes seemed more green than usual. There was another knock. She slammed the hairbrush on the dressing table and crossed the room to open the door.

"What the hell do you want?"

"To talk..." Edward said quietly.

"To lie you mean... Go away... " Eleanor turned away and tried to slam the door.

"Eleanor... I only want to help!" Edward held the door open and entered her room.

"I don't need your help!" she tossed her hair behind her once more and folded her arms across her body. "Not any more... I can't trust you... You lie to everyone!" She tried to slap him.

Edward grabbed her hand and pulled her close. "No... you really shouldn't ever trust me... but right now, I do have your best interests at heart. You and Phillip need to leave this town... before Koren returns to find you."

"Then you do know him!"

"Of him... like you... I have been inside the Watchers."

Eleanor's eyes widened in surprise. "Then who is he?"

"Someone you don't want to meet even if he's having a good day. And believe me... he doesn't have good days." Edward released her and pushed her away. For a moment he seemed to consider saying something. Then he turned abruptlyand left the house, slamming the door on his way out. She glanced at Phillip still sitting near the stove.

Phillip returned her look thoughtfully and nodded.

"Light and fast or everything we own?" Eleanor asked him.

"I'd say light and fast. This is one immortal neither of us may ever want to meet."

"Who is he?"

Phillip hesitated... then let out a long breath. "He may be an immortal once called Kronos... now pack... I'll tell you about him once we're under way."

"And Edward? I suppose he's going with us?" There was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

"No... I'd say he has his own plans. Now hurry. If all goes well, we may meet up with him later."

"No..." Eleanor grabbed her shawl and ran out into the night. 

Edward was still standing by the gate. He looked back at her. 

"Give me one good reason why I should ever trust you about anything!" she screamed at him.

"Lovely... Eleanor... why not awaken the entire town." He walked over to her, grabbed her arm and tried to get her back into the house. She twisted free.

"That's right... just evade the answers... Don't tell poor little Eleanor anything about what's going on! It might be too much for her! It might cause her to lose her balance again! You insufferable... egotistical... manipulative... overbearing... son of a bitch! I can't believe I ever loved you!" She tried once more to slap him.

Once more he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. "Loved me? You little tease... you have never loved anyone! You just toss that head of yours and walk away whenever it pleases you! You are a child! A child who will never grow up!" He pushed her away and started to stalk off.

"I am not a child!" Eleanor screamed.

Edward turned back and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. He held her tightly so that even her arms were pinned. The effect on her was startling... suddenly her screams were of panic and fear. He freed her and backed off. "Aella?"

She shook her head and shivered. Her mind was filled with the events of her first death. She rubbed her arms. Quietly she continued, "You always tell me to trust you... then you remind me not to ever really trust you... when Edward... when does it come full circle... when will you ever trust me... when do you treat me like an adult... when? If I seem to act like a child... it's because you always treat me like one." Her voice broke into sobs and she turned away.

She felt his hands softly on her shoulders, then he whispered into her ear. "I am Methos... Aella... I once rode with Kronos across the known world and fought at his side. If he knows about you... what you mean to me... he will destroy you to get to me. I won't let that happen... no matter what it costs... I won't let him touch you."

Eleanor turned back to him and stared wonderingly into his eyes. She saw only truth there... for the first time in a thousand years... she saw only truth... and she trusted him... as he had finally trusted her. "Then let me help... don't keep me out of this. Don't protect me... let me protect you."

"You can't. This is something I have to face alone. You mustn't tell Phillip who I am." Methos stroked her hair. "He cannot know... it's dangerous to know who I am."

"Why?"

"Because of who I was... what I was... how old I am."

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't understand. Who was Methos?"

He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "I was Death!"

Eleanor pulled back. Confusion reigned in her mind... then as if she suddenly understood what he was saying... as if his understanding of her own madness and confusion began to make sense, nodded. "Come back inside. We need to... talk..." she smiled as he kissed her forehead and murmured his agreement. Yes they did need to talk.

Phillip said nothing when they returned. He merely lit his pipe and sat listening to what 'Edward' wanted him to do. The plan was simple. Edward would wait in Powder Wells for Kronos' return and then lead him away from here. He'd try to lead him to a place where he could waylay and contain him. With luck... Kronos'd never learn about Phillip or Eleanor. With luck... Kronos would be contained for another thousand years. Phillip had argued about helping... but Edward had convinced him to stay with Eleanor... protect Eleanor. Edward would deal with Kronos.

"Why not just take his head?" she'd asked later that night.

"He might take mine." Methos had kissed her hand and held her close in the bed. "I'm not ready to chance that... if I'll ever be. It's why I've stayed hidden for so long. Why I don't fight as much as I used to."

"And here I thought you were just trying to set a good example for me. Trying to get me to stop wanting to kill almost everyone I meet." Eleanor had grinned and tickled him. He'd rolled over onto her then and the conversation was forgotten.

Later, Methos had traced the pattern for water in her hand... She'd stared at it for a long moment and then looked at him quizzically. "That's a dance step... why do I think there's something else there?"

"Because there is," he answered. "That's water... the cradle of life."

Eleanor grabbed his hand and thought for a moment then traced a dance step onto his palm. She looked at him.

"That's fire... the cleansing... the agent of change," Methos said evenly.

"Teach me," she said... "Teach me what all of them mean... They've always been just dance steps to me... teach me..." She'd pulled close to him and whispered in his ear. "Teach me everything."

He traced the pattern for creation on her left shoulder and then bent to kiss it... this could take a while.

Their plan had almost worked. But Kronos had turned aside from following Methos for some reason and the chance was lost. In hindsight, Methos had realized he should have let Phillip and Eleanor help him lure and contain Kronos. But he hadn't. Now... Eleanor realized that Peter Taylor had become a pawn in one of Kronos' old schemes. Peter Taylor and his family must have been the reason that Kronos had turned aside. Peter Taylor was a pawn... who just might stand a chance at doing what Kronos had failed to do... take the head of Methos!


	53. 53

****

Chapter 53

Seacouver

Eleanor stood in the light and winked at Methos, hoping to break through the momentary guilt stunning the immortal. She embraced her own darkness within... and reveled in the power as all her voices came together as one voice... her own. "Hey Taylor... if I'd known you wanted to dance so badly... I'd have been glad to accommodate you. My friend here was just trying to do you a favor. If you need to be mad at anyone... it's _me_. It's because of _me_ he left your family to die... because of _me_ you were killed... because of _me_... he let you live after challenging _me_." Carefully she emphasized the word me in all of her statements. She needed this madman focused on her.

Taylor stepped out into the light. "You! I should have known where he was... there you'd be! But my fight is with him!"

"No... no darlin'..." Eleanor smiled her most bewitching smile and shifted her body as if attempting to seduce him... in one way she was. "We were engaged in battle... you went down... I retreated... he interfered. Our fight takes precedence. Before you can fight him... you have to fight _me_." Again she emphasized words to make him concentrate on her.

As the color drained from Taylor's face, it appeared she had succeeded. "Will he still interfere?" the man said suddenly nodding towards Adams, suddenly fearing that his own method of dealing with other immortals would now come back to haunt him.

Eleanor glanced over at Methos and smiled wickedly, "Not this time... not unless you want him to... right lover?" Methos eyes narrowed and the barest shadow of a lop-sided grin began to appear on his face. He shook his head and stepped back out of the light.

"Where's your weapon?" Taylor said stepping forward, his sword raised.

Eleanor smiled... A wicked laugh accompanied it, "Oh... I don't need a weapon darlin'... I am a weapon!"

Taylor laughed, "Ha! Well... we'll see about that!" He swiftly lunged toward her and swung his sword. He saw no reason for subterfuge... just kill the bitch and be done with her! Eleanor stepped quickly to one side and shrugged at Methos. He knew this move... he knew it well. Taylor turned to face her and was met by two swift kicks. One knocked his sword from his hands and the second connected in his groin... With a gasp... he fell to his knees.

Eleanor caught his sword, shifted it for balance and brought it up to his neck... there she paused. "You cannot win... young one." She leaned toward him and her voice was reduced to a whisper. " I am the last child of the Fairie Queen... a child who will never die. I am the student of the fabled "Swordmaster" of Alexander the Great! I contain within me the quickening of Kritis, eldest of the firstborn. AND..." her voice rose, "I am wife of Methos... eldest of those who remain."

Taylor's eyes widened in fear and the sudden realization that all was lost.

"Now what you need to ask yourself is this..." Eleanor laughed gently. "Do you choose life or death?"

Taylor could see no way free from this woman who held his own sword at his neck and laughed so maniacally at him. Her eyes flashed with a green light that unnerved him. Licking his lips he whispered, "I choose death."

"In that case, dear boy..." Eleanor pulled back and thrust the sword forward, swiftly impaling Taylor through the heart. As his senses failed and his eyesight darkened to black... he saw her eyes seem to glisten once more with that green light while she positioned his own sword for the final blow which would end his life.

***

When Peter Taylor took a gasp of air to return to life, he was startled. What had just happened? Glancing around he saw only Adams lounging against a nearby crate. The woman, thankfully, was gone. Adams held Taylor's sword as well as his own.

"I thought she was going to kill me?"

"She did... and then she gave you to me."

"Who the hell are you?"

Methos grinned and tossed Taylor his sword. "I am Death!"

***

Duncan situated Joe in the front seat of the T-bird and turned to race back into the warehouse. 

Eleanor came sauntering out of the warehouse, paused to snap the neck of the stirring thug and almost skipped over to the T-bird. She leaned down to ask Joe, "Are you all right, Joseph?"

"Fine... where's Methos?"

"Oh... he's probably taking care of Taylor about... now." Just then the windows blew out of the warehouse in the explosion of a quickening. Duncan thrust his hand over his eyes to protect himself from the flying glass. 

Eleanor grinned. In the darkness... Mac thought her eyes almost seemed to glow a pale green.

Duncan grabbed her arm. "You interfered!"

"Not me... I just finished an old fight. But he chose death... so Death is taking him." She shrugged as if it were a matter of no importance..

"Are you so certain of that? " Duncan continued to watch the lightning show.

"Oh yes... MacLeod... you really have no idea how powerful Methos is... You've never seen what happens when an ancient dies, have you?" Duncan glanced thoughtfully at the warehouse as the quickening faded and shook his head. "Trust me MacLeod... I have... and this... this is nothing."

A tall figure could be seen against the blaze raging in the building as he exited the warehouse. He glanced momentarily at Taylor's man... snapped the collar of his long coat and continued toward the car. Methos walked with a sure and determined step... as though he were master of all he surveyed. There was nothing of the Adam Pierson persona about him now. Eleanor ran to greet him. Just as she reached him... he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close... for a long kiss... then lifted her into the air and swung her about... almost in an old dance move. A barbaric cry emerged from him and a chill went down Duncan's spine as Methos spun around with Eleanor in his arms. When he set her again on her feet, he slung one arm about her, hugging her tightly, as the two of them walked towards the car.

"Well that's over... ready to go?" Methos quipped as he opened the back door for Eleanor to climb in ahead of him. There was still a dark expression on his face... but the voice was light and cheerful.

"He said you allowed his family to die?" Joe wanted to know.

"Not exactly... " Methos said with a wicked laugh, his fingers already seeking Eleanor's bare skin beneath her clothes. _He wanted her and he wanted her now!_ He pulled her close and his voice became dark. "Actually... I didn't realize they'd died at the time... " She was shifting on the seat... already responding to his touch. "As for Taylor... he was a pre-immortal boy... I never gave him a second thought." 

"He said your friends killed his family?"

As Duncan started the car and shifted into drive Methos answered... but his mind and his thoughts were clearly on Eleanor, "Hardly... it was Kronos as Koren who killed them... Koren's gang. If Kronos sensed him... he may have decided to kill them all for the fun of it... he did that sometimes. He enjoyed leaving new immortals to awaken with no idea why they were still alive... and in the midst of their dead."

"And Taylor blamed you." MacLeod murmured. "All this because he blamed you that Kronos killed his family."

Methos nodded absently... hugging Eleanor closely, his fingers already tracing patterns on her exposed skin. Against him she shivered and let out a small gasp. "For a brief moment I did feel... responsible... he counted on that... but he didn't count on Eleanor!" Methos grinned as he bent to kiss her once more... a long kiss. Finally he drew back from her throwing back his head as another wild laugh escaped from him. "Is she not glorious MacLeod! Is not my wife a bloody marvel!"

Joe and Duncan glanced at one another as Ellie's laughter joined with Methos'... the sound of tinkling bells. _His wife?_ In the rear view mirror, it looked to Duncan that Methos and Ellie were practically devouring one another. Whatever they'd done... it seemed to have unleashed something within them both.

Duncan glanced at Joe and stepped on the gas. The faster he got the immortal couple back to the hotel... the better it might be... for all of them.


	54. 54

****

Chapter 54

Daniel M'Benga glanced through the photos his aide had managed to lift from the hotel security tapes. The boy in the photo was likely the one he needed. The dark-haired man with the boy was likely Adams... but he was uncertain who the woman was. Not only that... but none of the photos clearly showed her face... as if she knew where the cameras were and knew just how to turn so that her face was always obscured. One of them? M'Benga wondered.

His cell phone rang. He listened to the voice on the other end, then hung up. He looked once more at the photos. Well... Taylor was dead... no loss there... especially as his bumbling had nearly ruined everything. That man had not understood one bit the true nature of patience. What was it he'd read once... ahh yes... something about revenge being a dish best when served cold... M'Benga picked up the photo of Duncan MacLeod. Right now... M'Benga felt very cold indeed.

With any luck... MacLeod would reclaim the boy tonight or tomorrow. They'd relax their guard... perhaps go to some of the funerals M'Benga knew were scheduled for the next couple of days. Return to their normal lives... then... when the moment was right... M'Benga smiled with satisfaction. It was too bad MacLeod knew he was in town. Daniel M'Benga had not counted on running into him at this hotel... oh well... there was no reason he'd suspect him in this... perhaps another luncheon? He'd let MacLeod choose a place this time... perhaps he'd bring the boy. M'Benga could be flexible... perhaps instead of just taking the boy... he'd make certain MacLeod knew... or perhaps not. Perhaps... he'd take MacLeod's head leaving him to die knowing the boy would be his to raise and train.

***

Duncan let Joe off at his house after the two of them had dropped Methos and Eleanor at the hotel. Joe had shook his head in wonder while watching the immortal couple's attempt to walk quietly into the hotel and over to the elevator. It was clear to anyone who saw them that they had something else in mind.

"No wonder I never stood a chance... even back then."

"I thought he said he'd never married one of us." Duncan retorted and had driven off abruptly.

"Well... I hope to get the entire story one of these days. 'Course... if I don't live long enough... you gotta get it for me."

"Well if you ever do get it... make certain I get to read it."

"Whoooh... It's a deal Mac! It's a deal!"

After he dropped Joe off... Duncan drove home, grateful that the ordeal of the past few days was at last over. He was looking forward to a hot shower and his own bed. The last few days had been very tiring and very stressful. But at last... it was over. It was truly over. Or was it? Had Taylor's machinations and quickening opened a door to the past that he might have to shut? He hoped not. He hoped that Methos' and Eleanor's behavior had had more to do with the rush of the job finished than the unleashing of something darker.

***

Phillip let them in and in one look knew they'd been successful. He grinned broadly as Eleanor checked on Derrick under the makeshift tent. She leaned down to kiss the boy in his sleep then turned off the Maglite.

Winking with a slight knowing chuckle, Phillip whispered to Methos, "Just don't make too much noise you two... some of us would like to sleep tonight."

Methos looked hurt, "I have no idea what you mean." Then Eleanor took his hand and motioned for him to follow her into the bedroom. "Sorry Phillip..." Methos shrugged, "duty calls." The door shut solidly behind them.

Phillip stretched out onto the sofa once more. He'd leave tomorrow. The sooner the better! He was tired of uncomfortable sleeping spaces and tired of this hotel room. Besides... he still needed to figure out just how to get that hospital built. And... Kenny aside... he needed to get some more practice in. He really was rather rusty.

***

Within the bedroom Methos pulled Eleanor towards him and gave her long deep kiss. "Did you mean what you said back there?" he murmured into her ear... his voice already husky with desire..

"Every word." She smiled and backed away. "The question now is... are you ready for the next step? Is commitment in your vocabulary, yet?" The next step... the one they could never take before... the one that had always stopped them for the past hundred years. The step that had always been at the heart of their more recent arguments... 

"If you recall... you weren't ready either... You were the one who left. And then kept leaving."

"I'm not going anywhere tonight." She smiled. There was a steady calm about her. She was ready... it was time... Oh yes... it was more than time...

Methos removed his coat and pulled a small dagger from it. "Remember this?"

She nodded.

"Perhaps if I'd had this on me the night we were first married... things might have been very different for us."

She smiled and glanced upward as if in a mocking prayer. "Thanks be to interfering mortals! I rather liked our wedding night." She pulled off the sweater she was wearing and undid her jeans, stepping from them. 

Methos did the same. Then he grasped her hand, kissed it gently. His eyes met hers and they both nodded. Slowly he lifted the dirk to her palm and lightly traced a symbol on it. He paused... waiting for her to nod... when she did so he lightly carved into her palm the symbol for water. The blood welled up like a garnet stream. He handed her the knife. One hundred years ago... it was at this point that they had faltered... unable to take the next step. But there was no hesitation about either of them this time. Her heart was at last undivided... and he was ready for commitment... after Alexa... he was truly ready.

Carefully she carved the pattern for fire into his right palm... They held their palms together and closed their eyes... a small quickening flashed even as their palms healed... for a moment they saw another time... another place... standing stones... a girl finding a baby... three children dancing near an immense ocean. Images flickered in both their minds. They saw through other eyes. Lived other lives... those whose power and knowledge they held within. For a moment... they were other people... in another time... another place. 

When the moment passed... Methos picked her up and placed her gently on the bed. Lying next to her... he caressed her... as always, his fingers tracing the ancient patterns on her skin until the visions faded. Letting out a ragged breath... he wanted her at this moment more than he had ever wanted anyone. She was in him and with him... a part of him in ways he had never imagined. Within them both were the whispers of Aja... images and memories she had left with each of them. Shared images... differing views of a past so long ago... it did not yet make sense. With the rising passion of that first bonding... Methos made love to his wife. She responded as if she too were realizing just how much a part of one another they had always been.

Afterwards, Methos kissed her deeply, then grasped the knife once again...there were so many more patterns to explore... so many more parts of the bonding ahead of them... He traced the knife over her right hand, kissed it, and then lightly carved once more... earth. Eleanor caressed his face with her free hand, then smiled... and carved air into his left hand. Once more they clasped one another and let the blood mingle before they healed... once more visions of another time and place filled them both. Once more they saw each other's past and Aja's past. The visions... as yet without comprehension flickered before them both. Once more desire rose in them and they made love as if they were two becoming at last one. _Water is fire. Earth is air... now and for all time... all are one... all are one._

They would not finish this night... but they could begin the ancient marriage rite... the one that had teased both their dreams for the last century... ever since Powder Wells. _One... they were one... now and for all time to come... they would be one._


	55. 55

****

Chapter 55

By mid-morning, Derrick had polished off a huge platter of room-service pancakes and had played seven games of solitaire and five games of "fish" with Phillip. Finally Eleanor popped out of the other room wearing only a silk shirt. She rubbed her hands through her touseled hair and grinned, "Good morning! Do we have coffee?" She checked the thermal carafe. "Oooh... still hot!" Pouring a cup, she settled silkily into one of the chairs to glance through the morning paper that had come with the ordered breakfast. Derrick had never seen her quite so certain of herself. She absently curled her fingers about a lock of hair and seemed to almost hum some old tune under her breath.

A few moments later Adam, talking on his cell phone entered. He had on a pair of jeans. "Right... I'll see.... Derrick?" he looked at the boy. "Duncan says Ron's and Betty's funeral is this afternoon... would you want to go?" Derrick nodded soberly. "He says 'yes' MacLeod. We'll have him ready... In an hour? Right."

"Go get cleaned up... we'll see if we can get some clothes for you from the store downstairs." 

Derrick nodded and headed to the bathroom. He paused and looked back. "Will you and Ellie go?"

Adam stared at Ellie who shook her head slightly. "No... we never met them... it might raise some questions."

Derrick nodded. They were right. They didn't need to be there for Ron's and Betty's funeral. But he did... and it would make sense for Duncan to take him. Duncan had known them... besides... if any social services people were there... it might be better if he was with Duncan... at least for today.

An hour later, Duncan arrived to pick him up. Derrick was dressed in new gray dress slacks, a pale blue dress shirt and a navy blue blazer. The hotel store had very fine clothes. Derrick could not remember ever having been so well dressed. Eleanor kissed his forehead after she combed his hair and grinned.

Phillip shook his hand. "You're leaving aren't you?" Derrick asked.

"I don't think I'm needed here any longer."

"Will I see you again?"

Phillip glanced at Ellie and Adam... "I think so... perhaps for a holiday soon... very soon." He winked and grinned broadly. "Keep practicing..."

Derrick nodded, "I will!"

"Practicing what?" Duncan asked as they headed down the hall.

"Phillip knows martial arts... he was showing me some defensive moves last night while you guys were all gone. They were kinda neat. I'd like to learn more."

"Oh you would... would you." Duncan said as the elevator closed on them and began its descent. "I know a few moves myself if you stick around here for a while."

Derrick grinned. Despite the terror of the last few days... things were definitely starting to look up.

***

Joe Dawson finalized his report on Peter Taylor. He'd managed to leave Ellie's name out of it. After all... he still didn't know who she truly was. Hopefully... she'd keep that promise and talk to him now that everything was over. In many ways... he still thought of her as the mysterious Lee who might or might not have been an immortal... and despite the few clues he had... he wasn't ready to share yet. Besides... maybe she and Methos needed a little time without the spotlight on them.

He leaned back from his computer and thought about that. The Watchers knew Methos was in town... Joe had to assume Mike had reported that. They might know he'd had something to do with Taylor's beheading last night... but he didn't think so. From what he gathered... there'd been no Watcher on Taylor for some time... he'd managed to slip by one some months back and they hadn't really known where to find him. It happened all the time... immortals would go missing for a while and then turn up again. Someone, somewhere would note when they surfaced and the watching would begin again.

No... Joe thought... he'd leave both their names out of it for the time being... after all... he really hadn't seen anything with his own eyes. He and MacLeod had been outside the warehouse when the quickening had happened. None of his people had been there. He had a feeling even Methos would vanish for a while... say ten years or so... If he did... then Joe Dawson likely would not see him again... him or Ellie. It was the end of an era for him. Time to move on.

He placed a call to the Realtor to push ahead with the sale of the bar. It was time for him to move on as well. His Watcher position was mainly in Paris and London now. Maybe he'd even turn MacLeod's file over to someone younger... someone more willing to travel. He'd remain the man's friend if he let him... but it was time to just be Joe Dawson now... rather than Joe Dawson, Watcher. He could teach part-time at the Watcher Academy... he could run _Le Blues Bar_... he could enjoy what remained of his life. Immortals could come to him for a change... and he could listen and record whatever they wanted to tell him. He was at peace with that thought.

He glanced up as someone entered the bar. Someone he'd never before seen. "May I help you?" Joe called from the office and rose to attend to his customer.


	56. 56

****

Chapter 56

Derrick sat morosely on the back steps of the house where the reception was being held. He watched other kids play in the fenced backyard... but he didn't feel like playing. The funeral had taken its toll on him in ways he didn't begin to understand.

He set the untouched plate of food down on the steps and laid his head on his knees. It was his fault! It was all... his fault! They were dead because of him! And it wasn't fair. Derrick glanced up as Duncan sat down beside him.

"Sometimes it helps to talk."

Derrick shrugged slightly. "Won't make any difference... they're dead... and I'm to blame."

"No... you're not to blame. The man who ordered their deaths is to blame."

"But you heard what Roger said in there."

"Roger doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just a pissant civil servant expounding theories to hear the sound of his own voice. Ron's and Betty's deaths are not your fault."

"But it is... don't you see... I liked them... but I wanted Ellie back... I wanted to be with her. Now I am... but it's only because Ron and Betty died." Derrick insisted... tears welling up in his blue eyes. "If I hadn't wished for it so badly... maybe they'd still be alive."

"Derrick... wishes are just wishes. Wishing for something doesn't make something happen. Ron and Betty died because a madman wanted to kill Adam or me. It had nothing to do with you."

"But what about that other man... Carerra? Why did he grab me? What happened to him? Why did Ellie tell me never to mention him to anyone except you?"

"That was a different matter, Derrick. He was someone who wanted Ellie to do something for him... something wrong... " Duncan hadn't counseled children in a long time... he didn't know if he was really saying the right thing. "Carerra was using you to get to her. That's over... he can't hurt you. The man who wanted to kill Adam is dead... he can't hurt you either."

"But why kill Ron and Betty? They didn't know anything. Adam didn't know them. Ellie didn't know them. He tried to kill me at the school. He killed Ron and Betty. He killed George. Why? Because I knew them?"

Duncan shook his head and gently hugged the boy. "No Derrick... because I did. Trust me... you have done nothing wrong... nothing! And Adam and Ellie are going to make certain that nothing bad happens to you again... not for a long, long time." Duncan had to believe that. What would happen once the boy was grown was another matter. But it wasn't his place to say anything... not now... probably not ever. "Now try to eat something." He tousled Derrick's carefully combed and slicked hair. "There... that looks better," he said and grinned. 

Derrick didn't grin back, but he did nod and pick up the plate. "I'll try," he said, "I'll try." But he really wasn't hungry.

***

Methos typed one more set of instructions into the computer and hit print. "_That should do it,_" he thought as he stretched. He'd never had to try to do a set of travel documents for an entire family before. With the way things were... he'd had to carefully investigate and create the fiction of a family... at least until they could get out of the States. Once out of here... he felt... they could manage to disappear over a border or into a wilderness and then have the luxury of deciding just where to go. But first... they had to get out of here. It was beginning to look like a trip to Canada was in order. That and then possibly west into Japan... or Hong Kong if no one was watching the airports. If they were... then east... a long leisurely trip through the Canadian wilderness. From there... he smiled as Eleanor's arms went about his shoulders and she hugged him.

"'Bout done?" she asked and blew in his ear.

"Just now." He pulled her around and into his lap. "We've made a beginning... who knows where it will takes us."

Eleanor put her arms about his neck and smiled, "I'm not frightened... not anymore. If we embrace all that we are... there is no guilt... there is no shame... there is only unity."

"And Derrick... what about him. I still think he's part of this." Methos ran his hands up under the shirt she still wore. His fingers brushed her flawless skin where last night he had carved the symbol for chaos. Even now... just touching the spot brought visions to his eyes.

Eleanor shifted as if she too were seeing the horsemen ride once more. Letting out a shivering breath, she shook her head and smiled at him. "Let's just take this one day at a time... we don't know what the future holds... we might never have to make that decision about what to tell him."

"I think we should tell him some of it." On her inner left thigh was where he'd placed the symbol for desire... oh yes... he felt that rise in him. 

"I agree," Eleanor leaned into his embrace and let out another long breath. "But not right away. Let him be a little boy for as long as he's able." She ran one hand across his chest to find order... patience. She giggled.

"It's been a few hundred years since I last tried to raise some kids... I may be a bit rusty."

"Oh... you are many things Methos... but rusty is not one of them. She glanced at the time display on the computer... I think we may have time for one more round before Derrick gets back."

"You are insatiable!"

"No... just trying to make up for all the time we lost distrusting one another," she said and nibbled at his ear. "Besides... we'll have to be restrained once Derrick returns."

"Do we?" He asked archly as if wounded by the thought.

"Well... a little bit."

"Mmm... mmm..." he murmured, "We'll see about that. He swooped her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom where he dropped her on the bed. He grinned as she backed away slightly and then he pounced. 

Eleanor laughed hysterically as he tickled her without mercy. "You fiend... I hate this... Just you wait... I'll get you back... somehow."

"I can't wait..." he growled. And she laughed once more.

***

They met Duncan and Derrick in the hotel restaurant when they returned from the funeral. They had suggested that as opposed to another meal in the room. It was time for some normalcy to return to their lives. The boy was subdued and quiet and Duncan looked serious.

"Anything wrong?" Methos asked as he slid in next to Duncan allowing Eleanor to sit beside Derrick and give him a sisterly hug. The boy brightened a bit once she was there... but he was definitely more solemn than Methos had ever seen him.

"The funeral was a bit much." Duncan said. "Some people said some things..." he shrugged.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gone." Eleanor said.

"No Ellie... I needed to go... I needed to say goodbye. It's done now." He leaned against her and sighed. Eleanor rubbed his arm and hugged him.

The waitress brought water to the table and asked about their orders. Methos said something about giving them a few more minutes.

"What about tomorrow?" Duncan asked. "Do you want me to take Derrick to George's funeral?"

"Do you still want to go Derrick?" Eleanor asked and then continued when he nodded. "We can be there... I guess... I just don't want to be too visible. News crews and such."

Duncan and Methos both nodded their agreement. With sunglasses and hats... perhaps they could stay out of anyone's notice. Derrick could be with Duncan and they could pay their respects as just people in the crowd. Hopefully the Social Services people who might be at the funeral wouldn't recognize Adam Pierson and Ellie Trenton. They could leave shortly after that. If someone did recognize them... they could play along for a little longer.

"You need to go see Joe too." Duncan reminded Ellie. She nodded.

"Maybe we could go to the club tonight?" she smiled at Methos. "That is if Derrick would like to stay tonight with Duncan?" She tickled the boy slightly. He grinned and nodded.

Duncan chuckled, "That'd be nice. And I think you've already broken in the floor," he teased Ellie slightly, recalling the couple of weeks she had slept there when last in town.

Plans made all of them visibly relaxed a bit.

"So what's good here?" Methos quipped and opened the menu.


	57. 57

****

Chapter 57

The silky music of the blues wove its magic about _Joe's_. In a darkened corner, Eleanor sat contentedly sipping a draft beer and relaxing in Methos' embrace. His hand was up under her gray sweater and his fingers continued to trace patterns or find the ones already placed. They'd arrived less than a quarter hour before after wishing Derrick and Duncan a "Good night!" Joe had nodded at their arrival... but had been so busy since they'd arrived... they hadn't had a chance to talk.

Methos had carefully observed the clientele soon after their arrival and commented that, at least, he knew no one here. With luck... no one would notice them. Joe finally seemed to finish up at the bar and headed over to their table to join them.

"Wasn't sure I'd see you guys tonight!" Joe said as he took a seat. "Where's Mac?"

"Baby-sitting." Methos replied quietly withdrawing his hand from beneath Eleanor's sweater.

"Right... someone's got to watch the kid... Do I get to meet him?" Then he seemed to realize something... "Okay... so who watched him last night?"

Eleanor and Methos looked at one another and shrugged with a smile. "A friend." Methos finally said... Joe hadn't met Phillip... nor had he known about his arrival. Perhaps it was best to keep the Greek's presence out of this.

"As open and as informative as always!" Joe shook his head... laughing softly. "So... do I get to meet this kid or are the three of you off into the wild blue yonder tomorrow? I mean... this is 'Goodbye!' isn't it?"

"Yes, Joseph... this is 'Goodbye!'" Eleanor said with a sad little smile.

"And the story of your life?"

She threw back her head and laughed, "Do you have a thousand years?" Then she sobered and nodded to him. "Ask your questions... I'll try to answer a few of them."

Methos finished his beer and rose, "I think I'll get another beer at the bar."

Eleanor placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. Joe took a deep breath, "So... you two... you're really married?"

"Well... yeah..."

"In a church with all the trimmings?"

"Yeah... in a church... with a priest... and witnesses... and documents... and everything legal. But that kind of marriage only lasts until death. He died. I died. End of marriage. Beginning of long story."

"And now?"

She shrugged, absently rubbing the palm of her left hand; then she smiled sadly. "I did warn you when we first met that... as a rule... I don't date younger men."

"I remember." Joe chuckled and shook his head at the memory. "So... about Taylor last night...?"

Ellie sighed deeply, shaking her head. "Some unfinished business that neither of us had considered. Methos always used to warn me that all our actions have consequences... let's hope there are no more consequences." She smiled warmly, but her eyes glanced over to Methos who was absently rubbing the palm of his right hand. As if he were aware of her glance... he glanced back and smiled... then clenched and unclenched his right hand as if to shake something off. Eleanor did the same with her left hand... and then focused her attention once more on Joe.

"What about this kid, Derrick? Is there something more to him as you, Methos and MacLeod were talking about in London?"

Eleanor slowly took a sip of her beer, obviously considering her next words carefully. "Honestly Joseph... I don't know. There might be... and then again... it could just be some coincidence. All that we knew of Darius was lost when he was killed. There was no immortal there... it was holy ground. Could something somehow have remained behind?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I've tossed that idea around in my head for years... and I'm no closer to knowing the answer than I was the day I found Derrick. He's a puzzle. Given time... maybe Methos and I can figure it all out. But that's the key... time."

From the bar Methos watched Eleanor and Joe talk. With any luck the immortals would be long gone from here by this time tomorrow. Yet something still worried him. He glanced about the bar wondering just what it was he had forgotten? What contingency had he not considered? He stared into the mirror over the bar and carefully considered the faces of all he could see. Was anyone watching? Was there any pair of eyes looking at his back... or at Joe and Eleanor? He saw nothing... but he'd stayed alive this long by always being suspicious. And right now... all his warning bells were clanging as if this were only a respite before the final act. If he was right... the only way to bring everything to a final conclusion and insure both Eleanor's and Derrick's survival was to continue to act as if everything were over... that everything was back to normal... that they were lulled once more into a false sense of security. Problem was... he saw nothing that confirmed his suspicions. And that fact alone worried him... it worried him very much!

The band began playing something slow. Methos smiled and knew another way to make it seem as if all were back to normal. He crossed over to Joe and Eleanor and held out his hand, "Mind if I dance with my wife?" 

Joe sat back and shrugged. He watched them in a dance... the steps didn't seem to quite match any dance Joe had ever seen... but it was slow enough to seem to be a part of the music. As Joe continued to watch... Ellie turned her back to Methos but danced against him. He reached around her and seemed to match her every move with one of his own. Joe shook his head with a toothy grin... he had a feeling they'd been dancing together for a very long time.


	58. 58

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Chapter 58

Daniel M'Benga carefully considered the latest intelligence. MacLeod had reclaimed the boy. The other couple... Adams and the woman... he still didn't have a clear picture of her or a name to go by appeared to be otherwise engaged and no longer involved... at least with the boy. The one photo, which contained both MacLeod and the woman, did not seem to indicate any close relationship. She had likely been involved only to get the boy back into MacLeod's custody and to watch over the boy while the other two had dealt with Taylor... still, M'Benga wished he knew more about her.

M'Benga next studied the public records concerning the boy... Derrick Foster. The surname was a recent addition and gave him nothing more to go one. Once again... the woman's name and photo seemed to have been omitted. It was if someone were editing the files even as they were being entered into the record. Also the "Classified" tag that had been inserted over some of the files had so far resisted all the efforts of his aide to crack. Well... there was no rush.

When his cell phone rang, he answered... listened to the latest report... perhaps it would be possible to obtain the boy as soon as tomorrow. M'Benga smiled... perhaps he should work out this evening... just in case. He shut off the cell phone and removed his custom-made broadsword from its case. He pushed some furniture out of the way and began his _kata_, reveling in the freedom and power of it as he always did.

***

The next day at the cemetery, Eleanor and Methos, in long coats, stood on the fringes of the group of mourners. They were close enough to hear and far enough away to keep an eye on everyone. Behind dark glasses... beneath their hats and wigs... the duo watched the faces of the others present at George Layton's funeral.

Duncan and Derrick were closer to the casket. When time came for the dismissal... Derrick placed a chess piece on George's coffin... then walked soberly away holding Duncan's hand. They headed for Duncan's T-bird. Methos nodded and motioned to Eleanor to follow him... they'd meet Duncan, Derrick and Joe at the park. Eleanor had decided at the last moment that Joe should meet Derrick... it was a minor complication to their leaving... but even Methos thought it for the best. It would be one more indication to whoever might still be watching... that everything was back to normal.

Besides, Methos felt that Joe needed to meet the boy... he needed to talk to him... Joe needed to see for himself just what it was that his immortal friends saw in this ten-year old that might mean something for the future of all immortals. Joe had met Darius once... many years ago in Paris, he'd told them last night. He'd just been assigned to watch Duncan and Joe'd been with an old friend who happened to be Darius' Watcher. They'd only exchanged a few words after a church service... nothing meaningful... but Joe wanted to see this boy who reminded the others of the immortal priest.

So they'd decided to meet at the park. They could have a brief get-together there away from any news crews that might be covering the funeral. Joe would meet them there.

Duncan opened the door of the T-bird for Derrick to get in. He paused when he felt the approach of an immortal. Looking around... he saw only Daniel M'Benga. "Get in the car Derrick... Quickly." He shut the door behind the boy and turned with a smile toward the African. "M'Benga! What brings you here?" He spread his arms in greeting and tried to sound pleased to see the man.

"MacLeod... my friend. I was driving by and felt someone... I always like to know who's about. I am pleased it is only you." M'Benga gave him a friendly hug. "Since we are once more well met... perhaps this time you take me to lunch."

"I will... but not today. I already have plans."

"And the young one there... a friend of yours?" M'Benga indicated Derrick with a nod of his head.

"A friend... yes." Duncan replied.

M'Benga leaned in toward Duncan. "Does he know?"

"No... I don't believe in telling them before their time... you know that."

"Oh... I quite agree... You will get no argument from me. But... I do have a question..." He turned away from the car... his arm still about Duncan's shoulders and led him a few steps away. "You recall I was here to obtain an item? Well... I have run into a small problem and I though my old friend Duncan MacLeod might assist me in this matter."

"Suppose you tell me just what it is you're interested in," Duncan chuckled amiably.

Behind him he heard a thump. Turning he saw a man try to open the car door and grab Derrick. The boy had pulled the door shut and locked it and reached over to lock the driver's door. Duncan twisted free of M'benga and lunged at the man.

M'Benga likewise grabbed at the man who was attempting to avoid Duncan and knocked him out. "You have enemies my friend... quickly... take the boy and go... I will detain this one."

Duncan nodded and raced to the driver's side of the T-bird. Derrick unlocked it and as Duncan slid in, he heard M'Benga say, "I will follow you... where shall I tell my driver to head for."

"Do you know the city park?"

"I do..."

"We'll be there... at the chess tables." Duncan drove off.

Behind him, M'Benga smiled. The park... excellent! He could get the boy there. His man got up rubbing his chin. "You will be paid... you did your part well." M'Benga dismissed the man and sauntered over to his limo. "City Park... the entrance near the chess tables."


	59. 59

****

Chapter 59

Joe had been surprised but pleasantly so when Ellie and Methos had suggested he join them at the park the following afternoon... to meet Derrick. It gave him one last time to see Ellie before she vanished, and while he had learned a few things last night... there was still so much he didn't know about her. And much of what he knew... he'd put together from clues rather than from what she had actually said.

He'd learned she was over a thousand years old... and likely had spoken Gaelic as a child... that she had married Edward... as she had known him when she was still in her first life and had been his student afterwards. Of her first death... she would say nothing. He knew she had wandered the world since then... and that she had spent several years in Paris... working with Darius... learning to be a healer... a nurse... a midwife. He knew the outline of her life... but no real details... Joe surmised that she had at some point taken a quickening that had led her into some dark and murderous changes and that Methos had been there to help see her through that period of her life. But she had refrained from saying too much about that. Only that it had taken a toll on her and on her relationship with Darius. It was one of the reasons she wanted to help Derrick so badly. If something of the priest was in the boy... perhaps she could repay her old friend... she could help the boy... teach him... as Darius had once taught her.

Beyond that... Joe could guess at many things... but he wasn't satisfied. Perhaps he could get a little more from her today... before she vanished from his life forever. Now, he waited... anxious for, and at the same time dreading, this final meeting.

He saw Mac and a boy enter the park via the stone stairs that led down into the park from the street above. Mac was looking around urgently.

"_Something's wrong,_" Joe thought. He waved one arm so Mac would notice him. He saw the immortal say something to the boy who looked over at him, nodded and ran towards him. Mac stopped and continued to look around.

"Hi!" The boy said. "Are you Joe?"

"That's me kid!...What's going on?"

"Duncan's worried... He thinks someone else is trying to grab me for some reason." The boy shook his head. "He tells me it's nothing I've done... but this is all getting really weird. Is Ellie here yet?" The boy looked around. Joe saw his face fall as he failed to see his "sister" anywhere. "She's supposed to be here."

"Maybe she and Adam were delayed in traffic." Joe glanced up and saw MacLeod greet a tall, muscular black man, wearing an expensive gray suit. Joe gazed thoughtfully at the man... trying to determine just where he'd seen that face before. Then it came to him. "Daniel M'Benga," he murmured.

"Yeah." the boy said. "Duncan says he's a friend and he helped Duncan get me away from the kidnapper at the funeral... but I told Duncan I don't think he's really his friend." The expression on his face was solemn. 

Joe nodded thoughtfully and leaned slightly on his cane.

"Do they still hurt?" the boy asked thoughtfully.

Joe looked at him. "Hurt?"

The boy shrugged with a slight smile. "Your legs... you once said they still hurt... you could still feel the pain."

Joe leaned back on the bench and stared at Derrick. "Nah... they stopped hurting long ago," he whispered as he gazed thoughtfully at the boy.

Derrick nodded and took a seat across from him. The moment seemed to have passed as he continued to look about for Ellie.

Joe watched Mac and M'Benga approach. He was also aware of how quiet this area of the park had become. Glancing around... he noticed they were the only ones still in this area. The Watcher was suddenly very uneasy. He felt within his jacket for his revolver. "Derrick... come stand next to me... now."

The boy... evidently also noticing how few people were in the park... came quickly. He stood slightly behind Joe and placed one hand on the older man's arm. "Be careful," he whispered. Joe nodded at the boy's words.

M'Benga and Mac still seemed involved in some friendly conversation. Joe fingered his weapon... his concentration on the two immortals.

So focused on them was he, that he failed to notice the two men who slipped up behind them. One picked up the boy. Derrick struggled in the man's arms and kicked at him. Joe turned... drawing his weapon. The other thug knocked Joe across the head with something hard. He shook his head... momentarily seeing stars. The gun slipped from his hand.

By the time he looked around... the two men and Derrick had vanished. "Mac!" Joe cried out. Duncan looked over and ran toward Joe at once. M'Benga followed.

"Where's Derrick?"

Joe pointed towards a running trail... "Two men... that way I think... Sorry Mac..." He began to feel a trickle of blood oozing down the side of his face. His head throbbed. Joe reached up and could already feel a lump forming. He felt slightly nauseous.

"Keep an eye on him..." Duncan said to M'Benga and took off down the path.

"Of course... my friend..." M'Benga said. But Joe saw a predatory smile on the immortal's face. Joe leaned down to retrieve his dropped gun... but M'Benga had it first. The immortal hefted it in his hand then aimed it at Joe. "I do not think you will be needing this."

Joe yelled to MacLeod. "Mac... it's a trap!"

***

Derrick continued to struggle and kick... wishing he were just a little bigger... or had some leverage. Phillip had tried to show him about leverage last night. Derrick went limp and sagged in the man's arms.

"Damn kid!" the man exclaimed as the boy became a dead weight. He released him just enough to get a new handhold and to throw him over his shoulder. His partner was already vanishing ahead of him on the path.

As soon as Derrick's feet hit the ground... he summoned up all his strength... twirled and lashed out with one foot... directly into the man's groin.

"Oomph!" The man doubled over.

Derrick did not hesitate but ran quickly back towards the chess area and straight into Duncan's arms. "You okay?" the immortal asked. When the boy nodded, he continued, "Go back to Joe.... Now!" Duncan said and took off down the path after the kidnappers. 

The boy watched him go, then slowly turned and calmly walked back up the path. He hesitated a moment before rejoining Joe and M'Benga... both now standing at the entrance of the running path. Joe slowly shook his head slightly as if to warn the boy from coming any closer. Derrick nodded and backed up a few steps.

"Come here boy..." M'Benga called out. His coat shifted and beneath it Derrick could see the small weapon M'Benga had aimed at Joe. "I only want you..."

"Run Derrick!" Joe yelled.

But Derrick was tired of running. Besides... if he ran... M'Benga might shoot the old man and Derrick knew that would upset Ellie. He swallowed hard and walked slowly over. "Let him go... he's not part of this."

"But of course... boy." He motioned Derrick to stand beside Joe and watched for MacLeod to return along the path. Sunlight glittered on his gold tooth while he waited.


	60. 60

****

Chapter 60

Methos twisted the kidnapper's head swiftly to the right and grunted in satisfaction at the sound of bones snapping. As the man fell... he glanced over at Eleanor who had likewise dispatched the other man. The hard part had been waiting in the shadows for M'Benga to make his move. Obviously the attempt at the cemetery had been a decoy... an attempt to get both MacLeod and Derrick elsewhere... where he could make his move.

By planning to meet Joe here... they had chosen the land best suited to their covert activities... M'Benga would be the one at a disadvantage.

MacLeod came racing up the trail. He stopped and looked at the men.

"Where's Derrick?" Ellie asked. Her voice filled with apprehension.

"I sent him back to stay with Joe..." Duncan looked down at the two bodies. "Did you have to kill them?"

"No... I suppose we could have tied them up and called the police... " Methos shrugged, "But I was afraid it would take too long. Besides... you know how I hate to answer questions." Sarcasm dripped with every word.

"Where's M'Benga?" Ellie wanted to know.

"With Joe and Derrick... why?"

Ellie's face drained of color, she turned swiftly and ran up the path!

"I warned you that M'Benga's likely the one behind all of this." Methos called over his shoulder as he raced after Eleanor.

Duncan glanced down at the bodies then followed the two immortals. "Well you said to play along with him..."

Eleanor skidded to a halt and froze at the first sight of M'Benga with Derrick and Joe. The immortal nodded toward her and smiled as Methos came up behind her.

"Ahh... the mysterious couple. Adams and the boy's 'sister', I believe." He motioned with the pistol aimed at Derrick and Joe. "I assume my two men are no longer a factor? Well then... No sudden movements... please. I would truly hate to waste my leverage." He tossed two pair of handcuffs toward them. "If you wish these two to live... put those on... I do not care for the odds."

Eleanor slowly leaned down to pick up the handcuffs. Her fingers flicked at Derrick. "_Be ready!_" Derrick's eyes blinked in acknowledgment.

MacLeod came up behind them... Connor's _katana_ already in his hands. "Let them go M'Benga!... This is between you and me!"

"Of course... my friend... we will fight... but not just yet! The boy goes with me." M'Benga clasped Derrick's shoulder to pull him along with him.

At that moment Joe turned and slammed his cane across M'Benga's arm. He then pulled Derrick away from the immortal and behind him. The sounds of gunfire filled the air.

Eleanor screamed, "NO!" and ran towards the collapsing forms of Joe and Derrick. M'Benga hesitated only a split second... then backed away, swiftly drawing his own broadsword and brandishing it at MacLeod.

"It seems we will fight today after all!" M'Benga called.

"So it seems... my friend!" Duncan's words were loaded with sarcasm. The two circled about one another. M'Benga backed suddenly onto the path and ran along it. Duncan cast one look behind him at Ellie and Methos huddled over Joe and Derrick. "Take care of them... M'Benga's mine!" he said and raced after the immortal.

Eleanor ripped at Joe's bloody shirt and tried desperately to stem the flow of bright red blood. Beside him Derrick sat up and backed away in confusion and terror.

Methos pulled out Joe's cell phone and punched in the code for the Watcher hotline. He swiftly barked instructions into it and then tossed it onto the ground. His larger hands covered Eleanor's small ones as they both tried to stem the bleeding.

Derrick felt hands on his shoulders. He glanced fearfully up at Phillip's solemn face and relaxed a bit.

"Now why did he do that?" Phillip shook his head. "I had it covered. If he'd waited I'd have had him.... Just a few seconds more and I'd have made my move."

"Get Derrick and Eleanor out of here before the Watchers get here."

"I'm not leaving now..." Eleanor said shaking her head.

"Eleanor..." Methos said quietly. "You have to go... I have to stay. You know that. We discussed this. Follow the damn plan for once. Get Derrick to safety. I'll join you later."

Eleanor looked down at Joe and slowly pulled her hands back to allow Methos to work more freely. She shook her head. "I can't leave..." She closed her eyes. "Let Phillip take Derrick and go... "

"Eleanor!" Derrick said behind her and reached out to touch her shoulder. "I won't go without you."

Eleanor's shoulders sagged as though she were being torn in two. Slowly she nodded her head. Her eyes met Methos'. "Don't let him die... please Methos... don't let him die." She rose then and clasped Derrick's hand. Phillip nodded the unspoken promise to his kneeling friend and swiftly led Eleanor and Derrick away.

Methos watched them for only a moment... then returned his attention to Joe. Already he could hear a siren approaching. Across the grounds of the park came an ambulance. He continued to apply pressure on Joe's wounds until the EMT's took over and then sat back... worried and covered in Joe's blood. He glanced along the running path... wondering how MacLeod and M'Benga were doing.

***

Duncan and M'Benga had reached a small clearing about a quarter mile along the wooded running path. Here they could fight without observation.

M'Benga turned and readied himself for the attack. Duncan stopped just within the clearing and lifted Connor's _katana_ above his head in position to fight. "Why?" He wanted to know. "If you wanted to fight... all you had to do was challenge me!"

"I didn't just want to challenge you... barbarian. I wanted you to lose someone close to you... someone you had plans for... as once I lost someone."

"What are you talking about?" Duncan shifted position to counter M'Benga's new stance. The two immortals continued to circle one about the other.

"Do you not recall my lovely little wife Uldani?" M'Benga spat at the Highlander.

Duncan shook his head for a moment. When he'd first met the African... M'Benga had been possessed of several wives and concubines. He had seemed eager for Duncan to relax and enjoy his hospitality. Duncan had done so. So what was this about? Then he remembered the doe-eyed young wife... he had not remembered her name... only that he had sensed immortal potential in her. Duncan'd had several conversations with the young woman... and one very lovely afternoon... "What about her?"

"She turned from me after you left. Even after I killed her and brought her into her full potential... she refused me."

"You took her head?" Duncan shook his own. "Why? Surely you don't blame me for your own actions!"

"I blame you for turning her thoughts away from me. She was mine! I wished you to lose someone the same way."

"The boy? All this for a boy I hardly know?"

M'Benga drew back in confusion. "The boy is not your student?"

"Not hardly... he's just a kid I met recently. You obviously listened to someone who didn't know what he was talking about."

M'Benga spat. "That idiot Taylor! I hope he died a thousand deaths when you took his head! He was a fool!"

"I didn't take his head..." Duncan glared. "But I'll take yours!" He launched himself at M'Benga who avoided the obvious lunge and turned to parry Duncan's blade back. M'Benga retreated and hopped onto a large boulder. He leaped from it in a twisting move and slashed at Duncan. His blade caught Duncan's arm as he turned to parry and twist away from the broadsword.

M'Benga's size and strength were impressive... but one thing Duncan had learned over the years... it wasn't necessarily size and strength that won a challenge... it was using one's wits. Speed and accuracy could also be formidable weapons. He parried and slashed with Connor's blade as expertly as if it were his own.

M'Benga pushed forward... slashing at Duncan until he had the Highlander backed up against a tree. Duncan ducked low and came up swinging. Then he backed away and re-positioned himself. By this time both men were breathing heavily.

"This time pays for all." Duncan said and moved forward once more. He committed himself to a position and when M'Benga moved to counter it, Duncan altered his stance. He swiftly turned in a counter move that changed the direction of his slice suddenly and felt a moment of satisfaction as the _katana_ met only momentary resistance as it cut through his opponent's neck.

Around him... the quickening rose and lightning filled the clearing. Duncan flung wide his arms to pull in all he could.


	61. 61

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Chapter 61

Duncan rushed into the emergency room at County Hospital. In a glance he took in several people he thought were Watchers standing about looking worried. Slouched in a chair in the waiting room he saw Methos and slipped into the chair next to him. The older immortal was covered in drying blood.

"How are they?" he asked.

"Joe's in surgery... he took three shots." Methos shook his head. "He covered Derrick... he's fine."

"Where _are_ Ellie and Derrick?"

"Gone!" Methos said curtly and closed his eyes. "I didn't want the Watchers to see them or know for certain of their involvement."

Duncan glanced around the waiting room and noted that he and Methos were the target of at least a dozen pair of eyes.

He nodded slightly and leaned back in the chair. He had a feeling it was going to be a while. But this was not the place to talk.

***

Methos nudged Duncan as Dr. Anne Lindsey entered the waiting room. She was instantly surrounded by the Watcher contingent. Duncan glared... but waited. Finally Anne walked over.

"Joe's in recovery. We almost lost him on the table but that guy really has a strong heart!"

"Yeah," Duncan said and nodded. "Joe definitely is all heart. Can we see him?"

"He'll be in recovery for a while... then if he's stable he'll go to ICU. I might be able to get you in then. Those others...?"

"Watchers. They work with Joe."

"Does he have any family... ?"

Methos spoke up, "A daughter... Amy... but last I heard she was in London."

Anne looked at Methos quizzically, "And you are?"

Duncan smiled, "A friend... of mine... and of Joe!"

"Well... it looks like your quick work at the scene may have saved his life. Are you a doctor?"

"Once... or twice..." Methos shrugged and smiled briefly at Anne. "Think I'll see about some coffee... Want some?" he asked Duncan who shook his head.

"Is he like you Duncan?" Anne asked.

"Anne... don't ask questions right now. I'll talk to you later about Adam."

Anne nodded, "All right. I'll let you know when Joe's in ICU and try to get you in to see him. He won't be awake or aware... but..."

Duncan nodded, "Thanks Anne... thanks a lot." He looked over at the Watchers milling about. "Can you keep them out for a while?"

Anne looked over at the others. "I'll see what I can do." Then she rose and walked away, slipping once more behind the double doors and out of the waiting room area.

Duncan took a deep breath. This had all gone so horribly wrong. He stirred as Methos re-seated himself next to him.

"Here... I got you some coffee anyway... black right?"

Duncan nodded with a smile and accepted the hot drink. It probably was going to be a long wait.

***

Several hours later... Anne, true to her word managed to get Duncan and his friend into Joe's room. "Five minutes..." she said quietly and left.

Methos pulled out a chair next to Joe's bed, turned it around backwards and straddled it. Duncan paced back and forth in front of the observation window. A glance told him no one was nearby.

"So where are they?"

"I told you MacLeod... they're gone. Phillip is driving them into Canada and from there..." he shrugged.

"I thought Phillip had already left."

"My ace in the hole. You know I always try to leave an out. I hoped that no one but you had seen him. I'd told Phillip to take out M'Benga but then Joe acted first. If Joe hadn't pulled Derrick out of the way..." he shook his head.

"You used Joe, Derrick and me as bait?"

"I needed to finish this MacLeod. I figured M'Benga would just keep searching for the boy unless one of us dealt with him now."

"You conniving son of a ... " Suddenly Duncan just leaned against the wall and shook his head in exasperation.

"Always was... I just didn't plan on Joe getting shot. I told him to just be prepared to protect Derrick but to be careful."

"You might have warned me a little more clearly about what was going on!"

"Well... I did tell you that M'Benga's presence here was suspicious. I just didn't have the chance to lay it all out for you. It was important he not sense your reservations about him. And then..." he grinned, "I might have been wrong... He might truly have just been an old friend."

"Will you be meeting up with Ellie and Derrick somewhere?"

Methos regarded him darkly and then shook his head. "No MacLeod... I'll stay behind. After all, someone has to keep the Watchers occupied and as much as I hate it... it'll be me for awhile. Now that they know about me... there's just no way I can completely disappear without their searching for me. Eleanor, Phillip, and Derrick are much better off on their own."

"And Darius' research? His sword?"

"Both gone with Derrick... but..." he winked, "I did make a copy of what's on that disc. And..." Methos pulled out a small brass key. "If we can locate the originals... we might make some more headway."

"You think that bag of runestones I have in Paris might tell us where to look?"

Methos nodded with a smile. "I always found Paris nice to visit in the Spring."

"What about the... what was that word... the old one that meant green-eyed woman?"

Methos sighed deeply, "The _mynishka_." He began to massage the palm of his right hand... then made a fist and shook it slightly.

"I gather Eleanor was not the original one... so what do you know about that and what it means?"

"A long story MacLeod... a very long story. Can it wait?"

MacLeod opened his mouth to insist on information...

Anne opened the door. "Sorry guys... five minutes are up." She stood to one side as Duncan and Methos exited Joe's room. "You can come back in the morning. He might be awake by then. Besides... you both need to clean up a little... especially you." Anne nodded at Methos' bloody clothes.

"Right... I'll see to it... I suppose I do look a little gruesome to be prowling hospital corridors."

Anne grinned, "Truthfully... you do look a bit like death."

Methos grinned, "You have no idea how perceptive you are, Dr. Lindsey."

Pursing her brows thoughtfully, Anne closed the door behind her.


	62. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

(_Several hours later_)

At first when he awakened, Joe wasn't certain where he was. But the steady beeping of the heart monitor reminded him. In the darkness of the hospital room, he could make out nothing but the blinking lights on the monitoring equipment. Someone had drawn the blinds so that light from the nurses' station did not shine in through the observation window.

Then from the corner of his eye... he thought he could make out a slight movement in the chair next to the bed... a shadowy movement within a shadow. A small hand reached out and took hold of his.

"It's okay, Joseph... it's only me. I just wanted to check on you."

"Don't... go..." he managed to get out.

"Shh... I'll stay 'til you sleep again."

"Who're... you ... really..." he muttered before the pain stepped up a notch and the monitor registered his distress.

He heard her take a deep breath. The thumb of her hand seemed to trace some pattern over his own hand.

"You wish to write the Chronicle of my life?"

"Yeah." Once more the pain rose.

Ellie gave his hand a slight squeeze. "It's okay Joseph. Shhh... I'll tell you... everything... I always wanted to... I just never got the chance."

Her voice was low and gentle, almost melodious as she spoke with just the slightest trace of Highland brogue, "A long time ago my grandfather's only son died... he went to the Standing Stones to ask the Faerie Queen for a child that would never die..."

Joe closed his eyes and listened quietly to Eleanor's tale. When daylight arrived, he was once more alone in the hospital room, and there was no sign she had ever been there. But he felt better. He felt stronger. He felt like his recovery was now only a matter of time. Joe Dawson smiled contentedly. He was still smiling when the nurse arrived to take his morning readings.

**********************************

Each heart is a pilgrim,

each one wants to know

the reason why the winds die

and where their stories go.

Pilgrim, in your journey

you may travel far,

for Pilgrim, it's a long way

to find out who you are...

__

~from "Pilgrim", lyrics by Roma Ryan

************************************

(Note: Story to be continued... in **_The Shattered Soul_**)

****

Author's Notes:

If readers noticed the number of times games were mentioned in this tale... it was intentional. The working title of this story was "_The Games Immortals Play_" and that title remained on the story until very late in its development. "_Pilgrim_" by Roma Ryan is from the Enya cd... **_A Day without Rain_**... and is used without permission.

The terms and concepts of the Highlander, Immortals, and Watchers are the property of Davis/Panzer, as are the names of many of the characters in this story. The characters of Eleanor, Derrick, Phillip, Peter Taylor, and Daniel M'Benga are my own creation, as are many of the minor characters. Tim Wyatt and Dr. Amy Zoll (who is not Joe's daughter also named Amy) appear on the **_Watcher Chronicles_** cd-rom as Methos' Watchers. Tim Wyatt does the leg-work and Dr. Zoll compiles the records. No further information other than their names appears on that disc. Their physical descriptions and characterizations are my own. The real Amy Zoll worked behind the scenes on the series.

Never having taken trans-Atlantic flights... my concurrent sections set in various global locations may not have been quite correct. I tried to be vague enough to give readers the idea... I just did not tie the events down to actual times... With more research... I may be able to do that.

For me... this was a story about discovering just where one belongs, and what is necessary to move forward with one's life. For Eleanor and Methos... it is a final committment to one another. For Joe it is in finally learning the truth of a tale that has always been one he "needed" to know. Now Joe knows... what the reader knows... and maybe some more besides... time will tell.

As for what happens next? I have completed the follow-up book, **_The Shattered Soul_**, which picks up immediately following this book... and am currently working on the third and final book in this series. Much of what I had planned for this story simply did not fit and it was pulled and inserted at appropriate places in the next story. I will have additional new characters and some surprises ahead for all who wish to follow along.

As always... I appreciate your comments and feedback. Without them... I have no idea if what I'm revealing makes any sense or is anything others are interested in. I do have an outline and a plan... it's just that these characters sometimes throw me a curve and take me in directions and into places I'd never considered. Suggestions are always welcome.

Peace!

****

Hymn

To the dearest, to the most lovely

Who lights the heart in me,

To the angel immortal, the idol,

Praise to eternity!

She sifts through my intimate being

Like the tang of salt from the sea,

And into my famishing spirit

Pours a taste for the heavenly.

Sachet always fresh in perfuming

The air of a cherished retreat,

A censer diffusing its fragrance

By night, with a secret heat,

How can I, my perfect beloved,

Give word of you truthfully?

Grain of musk ineluctably hidden

In the holiest centre of me!

To the purest, to the most lovely,

My joy and my sanity,

To the angel immortal, the idol,

Praise to eternity!

__

~by Charles Baudelaire, ca. 1854

English Translation by James McGowan, 1993

#30#


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